A Wizard Thief in America
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: Very AU - Set in a world where Lily & James were muggleborns who got mixed up with the prophecy anyway and were killed, they managed to get Harry out of Magical Britain and away from Dumbledore. But Harry is nothing like what Dumbledore expected him to be, but how can you be when you're a Wizard growing up on the streets in a country where muggleborns are considered scum?
1. Chapter 1 The End of the Potters

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter or the franchise. All I own are ideas that make my stories come true.

Author's note - A Wizard Thief in America and its sister story, A Wizard Thief In London, are virtually identical, aside from a bit of wording. Please do not be confused - its only at the ending where you see the differences. I'm playing around with different what if scenarios.

Anyway, enjoy my stories and please drop me a review.

 **Prologue - The End of the Potters.**

Lily Potter sat listlessly at the table of the living room of the cottage she and her husband were living in at Godric's Hollow.

She still couldn't believe what she'd just learnt from scanning Voldemort earlier - she didn't know whether to laugh or weep. How stupid could the bastard be to use that kind of magic? Lily closed her eyes and sank deeper into the chair.

The dark red haired and heavily pregnant young witch hoped that by sitting still for long periods without doing much after the hell in Diagon Alley earlier today then her adrenaline would run down, but truthfully her mind was too shaken to process what she had just learnt. She had been a mess at hospital when her husband James had taken her there, but she had been glad she had insisted on visiting a muggle hospital. It was simple sense - there were too many Healers in St. Mungo's hospital of magical maladies who were sympathetic to the aims of the Death eaters.

There were daily reports of people in the hospital who'd died of accidents, and she didn't want to deal with another Death eater, only one who was disguised as someone sworn to help.

Dumbledore would probably not like it, but she didn't care. She had refused to tell her husband about what she'd learnt during the fighting with Lord Voldemort - if she and James had not been set up she would've been surprised, and those Order members who were 'discreetly' nearby had proven that Dumbledore was playing his little games again - and in that fight she had magically scanned the Dark Lord when the bastard murderer was occupied with fighting her husband and the Order members.

If James had been murdered, then it would simply be recorded as yet another muggleborn needlessly slaughtered by that psychopath. The Ministry didn't care about the rising statistics. Lily and James Potter were muggleborns who had not known they were magical until their eleventh birthdays, though Lily had known about the truth of those weird events where something miraculous happened was magic earlier than James or others like her did, thanks to Severus Snape. Lily grimaced in distaste at the thought of the greasy haired Death eater.

Yeah, he might have been her 'friend' growing up, but Lily had always known he'd lusted after her rather than loved her, if he thought he was being Slytherin by covering up those looks he sent her way, looks of hunger like a lion who hadn't seen an antelope for a fortnight, then he needed his brain examined. Then again Severus had never been very good at moving on past his emotions. To Lily, she would always be grateful for him for telling her about magic. But she was not grateful for the way he just sank into a crowd when he should know better.

She knew Severus's home life was appalling but it wasn't an excuse to become a Death eater. Lily shook her head in sadness at the thought of Severus being marked like a branded cattle, but that was the life he had chosen, and if Severus couldn't see the sorry excuse of a life he now had she didn't want to know him.

She couldn't work out why he'd thought she'd go out with him when the company he had fallen into at school had put her off, and the way he listened and absorbed that hateful shit about blood purity….. Lily shook her head as she became lost in memories that didn't really make any difference now - she didn't want to think of the Junior Death eater movement which was still being a major problem at Hogwarts, not helped by the stance of Albus Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers. The place was becoming a Death eater factory and training camp, not helped by the teachers.

Would they never open their eyes to see what was going on, or were they doomed to just create Death eaters each year?

Lily was truly disappointed in some of her former teachers, she knew she wasn't the only one. It wasn't a nice feeling for her since she had learnt a great deal from them, but she couldn't help it. If they had pulled their fucking fingers out and punished some of those students who had been infected by the disease that was Lord Voldemort who had paraded around the magical world like Adolf Hitler, saying all the magical world's problems were due to muggleborns, but Lily and James were convinced some of those teachers had agreed with him. So much for the lies that muggleborns were treated as equal. As far as she knew, muggleborns were still being visited by the teachers from the school and being told that lie. It wasn't true. Muggleborns were seen as scum.

It was the prejudice that made strained her relationship with Marlene and Alice, but now she only had one of her friends left since Marlene had died not so long ago, and even Lily didn't know how long her friendship with Alice would last.

Lily had often thought aloud that the magical version of the Star of David the Nazis had used to pick out the Jews would be passed around to the muggleborns, and a few other muggleborns had agreed with her when things had begun to get worse. Lily could picture it happening - some weird magical symbol being passed around to the muggleborns, teachers picking them out in the crowd and making them perform humiliating rituals, and all the time Albus Dumbledore sitting serenely in his golden throne in the Great Hall saying his hands were tied, his eyes twinkling insincerely with a look of pitying understanding on his face, though truthfully Dumbledore didn't understand and he didn't want to either.

There were exceptions - Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Horace Slughorn - but they were only a few exceptions but they had managed to give the muggleborn students hope, whereas people like Minerva McGonagall didn't seem to care. During those times when she and her fellow muggleborns were being harassed, sometimes in the Great Hall, she would see Dumbledore's look of amusement as if the suffering before him was one great big and very sick joke.

Many muggleborns and even half bloods had lost their faith in the old wizard. It had been a few years since Lily and James had been at Hogwarts, but they didn't know if they even wanted to know how the next generation of muggleborns were walking around in packs, keeping an eye open for Junior Death eaters and defending themselves when the teachers didn't seem to care. Were the teachers still turning a blind eye? Was Flitwick doing his best to mitigate the worst of the prejudice seeing he was a half goblin himself? Was Dumbledore still unapproachable, and did he still look at the bullying like it was funny while saying his hands were tied, a stupid excuse if anyone had ever heard one?

Lily shook her head as she remembered how things had gone down hill one day when she realised that the magical world was not what she'd thought it would be, though there had been signs for sometime.

Snape had called her a mudblood, one of the most foulest things she had ever been called because it attacked not just her but her entire heritage, when she had made the mistake of trying to help his ungrateful arse when the marauders were bullying him. The marauders - Frank Longbottom, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew - were a gang of Gryffindor boys who had attacked the kids of some of the other houses.

They called it pranking.

Lily called it bullying.

She wasn't alone either, and many muggleborns went out of their way to avoid the obnoxious boys though Remus Lupin was more bearable, though his cowardice left much to be desired. And it seemed the anger of the pranked students who had been forced to endure it year upon weary year had festered and had made many of them turn to Voldemort, and now they were marked Death eaters who ran around in halloween costumes that crossed with Ku-Klux-Klan inspired clothing complete with masks to hide their faces, but Lily called them cowardly for refusing to show who they really were and getting their revenge on everyone.

Truthfully the marauders were as bad, if not worse, than the junior Death eaters and it was made worse by the fact Dumbledore protected them. Sometimes he did it openly.

Lily and James had never liked the marauders, in fact few of the muggleborns did since the idiotic Gryffindor boys involved them unwillingly in those stupid pranks of theirs.

Unlike their magically raised fellow students, there was a line that had to be drawn between pranking and bullying, and the muggleborns had been aware of that line the whole time. James was unlucky enough to have to share the same dorm with them for 7 years. He had tried to make friends with them because he was the only muggleborn in their dorm and he had needed the support, but his lack of knowledge about their world and the fact he was a muggleborn strained any attempts of friendship.

That was something Lily had always been bothered by, if you didn't even know or had even met a muggle or a muggleborn, how can you know you automatically hate them? Anyway, it hadn't mattered - over the years James had become disgusted by the attitudes of the boys who hadn't been very nice, and he had joined the muggleborn group which had been formed as the political climate outside the school grew more soured by Voldemort.

Lily had also joined when it became clear to her that Snape was becoming more and more involved with the Death eaters, and when the teachers lack of response or support for the muggleborns just grew day upon day until the muggleborns simply gave up hoping one of them would start helping them.

Unlike James who had been forced to bunk with four immature little boys, she had been with two of the best friends she'd ever had. Unlike boys like Frank and Sirius, Marlene and Alice had been automatically supportive of her because of her heritage, and it was from the pair of them Lily had learnt more about the magical world and its problems, but there was a gulf between them but they were more fascinated by her being a muggleborn than anything else. But over the years Marlene and Alice had distanced themselves from her like many of the other pureblood witches and wizards in the school who had muggleborn friends. Voldemort was showing his true colours all the time by murdering families who either refused to join in with him or those who believed he was going too far.

The separation from her friends had hurt, but that hurt her the most was the fact she could understand them.

After Snape had shown his true colours, Lily had become more involved with James and she was glad she had. They had already formed a bond despite James's occasional arrogance, but if there had ever been a choice without Snape calling her that foul name then it would only have James. Unlike Snape, James was willing to be there for her.

Lily shook her head out of her school memories and focused on the last two years. She and James had married after school and they had both become curse breakers since the other jobs were being pressured by those high up in magical society to deny muggleborns or half bloods who lived in the muggle world access to magical jobs. The goblins didn't give a damn if a human was muggleborn, half blood or not - to them a human was a human. Lily and James hadn't wanted to be curse breakers but they had little choice because of the coming war, and like many muggleborns who were just fed up of the prejudice and lack of action from those like Dumbledore who was supposedly a champion of their rights as living and thinking people, not barbarians who'd been civilised like a monkey being taught tricks and taught how to dress in a stupid costume, the newly wedded Potters had done their best to ignore the war and simply hope it passed over their heads.

Unfortunately, it hadn't worked. Lily and James had become involved with the fighting when Albus Dumbledore pressured them into joining the Order of the Phoenix.

Lily grimaced at the thought of the Order. She had never met such a useless bunch before. Oh, they believed they were putting up a good fight since they were on their own and the Ministry was compromised, but Lily could see many ways they could be better, but she knew better than to tell them that. She knew she'd be wasting her time.

Dumbledore wouldn't listen to her. Others like Molly Weasley would argue with her, yelling at the top of her banshee voice that she should be ashamed of doubting a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore. When she'd been younger Lily had never liked the thought of vigilante groups, but as she grew older and learnt that rules and laws of order could be changed or altered slightly that in the end they made little difference. Nowadays Lily didn't really care about magical laws since they did nothing to protect muggleborns.

The war against Voldemort had become an open war three years ago after years and years of political wrangling, though there had always been a shadow of darkness draped over the magical world like a slick of oil, drowning everyone.

Lily closed her eyes as she tried to force out the terrible memories she had accumulated during that time; watching people being slaughtered needlessly, muggle homes with the Dark Mark hovering overhead with the doors and windows disintegrated, blood smearing the floors with women and girls bloodied and showing obvious signs of rape. It was just as bad in the magical world.

Voldemort might claim he was doing what he did for the good of the pureblood wizards, but he was murdering families who were supposedly pure, and the number of people being murdered was rising more and more with the Death eaters gleefully slaughtering people they had probably met at parties without a care in the world. To make matters worse their ranks were being filled all the time, usually by morons and desperate sick bastards who wanted to have a proper outlet for their disgusting tastes, and people were disappearing.

Many muggleborns had fled the war, never to be seen again, and Lily couldn't say she blamed them. A few were staying to try to fight and they fought dirty, much to the anger of Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic who in many ways were sympathetic to the Death eaters and it didn't help that Minister Bagnold was fucking hopeless. But really, what did they expect? What did Dumbledore with all his useless double talk expect? Did he really think the muggleborns wouldn't lash out after all the shit he and others had pushed them down? What did Bagnold expect? The woman had never been Lily's favourite person when it became clear that she couldn't see the cancer the Death eaters were, for tying the hands of the aurors and anyone else who wished to fight. Didn't she realise that this wasn't a political game? Lily had decided she didn't care for her reasonings because while she was beginning to show signs of seeing reality, it was too little and too late in Lily's mind.

There were far too many Death eaters, many of them pureblood and half blooded witches and wizards, who now saw the cause as being worthwhile since there weren't any actual fighters. And the Ministry was making things easier despite the work of a few to try to stop the mess from getting worse. Lily did feel for some like Amelia Bones.

It had taken Bagnold a few years, but now she was seeing that the war was not what she had imagined it to be. What efforts she was putting in now were too little, too late in Lily's opinion.

Lily frowned as she thought about how suddenly she and James had been pushed into the war by an outside influence and they had encountered Voldemort three times this year and today's little skirmish was the third time. Because of their profession and because they travelled to other countries where there were dozens of spells, curse breakers were encouraged by the goblins to study the old magical spells found in old libraries or tombs to build their spell repertoire to understand the magic of the wards, and Lily and James had quite a large repertoire of ancient and really dangerous curses that really helped to even the playing field between them and the Death eaters. Voldemort was a challenge, but at least with those curses they lived to fight another day.

Lily was a wicked duelist though she was more of a fighter - she didn't really like the etiquette that went into magical duelling - and thanks to her petite willowy build she was light and quick on her feet, and with her talent for using vicious spells and everyday domestic charms in her fighting she was an unpredictable fighter.

Fighting Voldemort was no longer an option for Lily in her present state, and to make matters worse Lily believed Dumbledore had made sure she and James were in Diagon alley when the attack took place. It was too much of a coincidence, and now Lily was beginning to suspect Dumbledore himself was pushing her and James into encounters with Voldemort, which were dangerous for the baby, but the old man didn't seem bothered and the thought he was a bigot seeing an end to three 'mudbloods' had crossed her mind.

Things had gotten more suspicious when Voldemort had ignored everyone else the moment he had laid eyes upon them both, and the look in the sick wizard's eyes at the sight of her pregnant belly had terrified Lily. She had been forced to hide in a shop and provide covering fire from a position of safety, and it was during that terrifying experience that Lily had decided to magically scan Voldemort while he was distracted.

When she had studied the results she couldn't believe the monster would do something so disgusting and yet so stupid. Was Voldemort really desperate he would make them? After the fighting was over, despite whatever insistence of Dumbledore that such things were safe and hadn't been compromised, Lily had insisted herself that she and her husband go to a muggle hospital to have her checked up.

After nearly being killed by blood purists who'd love nothing more than to murder her and her unborn 'filthy blood' baby, Lily hadn't wanted to take the risk healers with dark sympathies getting their hands on her. There were dozens of Death eater sympathisers in and around magical society, people who believed the sick lies muggleborns stole magic from pureblood witches and wizards, rendering them as squibs, and wanted to do something about it. When the fighting was over and James suggested them go to a hospital, she'd insisted they simply go into the muggle world for a checkup. No, being with muggles again was better than being with wizards. Lily had grown sick of them for one day.

What followed was a thorough check up on her baby, and though she and James like every other muggleborn tried to spend as much time in the muggle world as possible though many had been abused and tormented over the years by their peers and families who hadn't known that their children were actually magical only to see the magical world was no better so they were caught between two worlds, but it was a better choice than being murdered by the people nearby you without anyone raising a finger to stop it.

James knew she had learnt something, but they couldn't talk about it and even when they'd come back to this fucking cottage Dumbledore had put them in, for 'protection', she and James had been summoned to an Order meeting. She had refused to go - the doctors had prescribed rest for her, and if Dumbledore thought for one instant she was going to one of his pointless meetings he would get another thing coming. She had no intention of seeing the useless bastard now, and besides she was too worn out after the day she'd had, and if Dumbledore thought she was going to put a meeting first above her baby then she would methodically introduce the old fool to a number of slow torture spells that she'd discovered from an ancient Chinese tomb. She had told James to go for the pair of them while she rested here.

Lily only hoped James came back with something good to tell her.

* * *

The instant James Potter walked through the door of the new HQ of the Order - the Order had to move to different locations because Dumbledore was having a lot of trouble finding a decent place to hold the meetings, or if he thought he was being too clever for the Death eaters by making it hard for them to track the Order down, but why that would be James didn't really care - he knew he would be having problems. He was still shaken by the attack in Diagon earlier, knew Lily was too, and the knowledge that Lily had found something out because of her scan, but she had refused to tell him when Dumbledore had summoned them to this ridiculous meeting.

The Order - he and his wife hadn't even known they had been nearby in the alley - had taken heavy casualties, not helped by Dumbledore's stupid policy of stunning the bastards so they can have a chance of redemption.

But the problem was the Order simply didn't have the mindset to fight and win this war, and that combined with Dumbledore's questionable policy didn't make a good combination for fighting a war against an enemy who didn't have the same scruples. The meetings were just chats like a really bad writers group who met once a month to discuss writing when all it was were just brainless chats.

None of the Order members barring one or two really had any interest in fighting or even lifted a finger to help anyway. Sure, some of them were skilled, some - like Moody, and the former marauders though he knew that bunch of idiots still thought of themselves as pranksters - were willing to go the extra mile to fight back.

But the others…Half of them were old, and some of them were just old friends of Dumbledore's brought in for Christ knew what reason, though what contribution they actually made for the war effort James had long since stopped trying to work out.

Why did Dumbledore not have friends or associates who he could trust, those who could contribute something to this war?

Lily was the same, she often sneered about the members behind their backs at the end when they returned to wherever they were staying, asking herself and him what would possess Dumbledore to recruit such useless people in the first place when he should be recruiting genuine aurors, curse breakers, healers, unspeakables, and even criminals to tell them all what the state the war was having in all avenues of society. People like that had a great deal of influence over a war.

But no. Instead the Order consisted of old people afraid of lifting a finger to fight back. For some reason, Lily had come to suspect Dumbledore wanted the war to be waged the way it was with people who were virtually useless because it meant HE could influence the outcome of the war. James had the feeling his wife was right.

It was just….the thought Dumbledore saw the war as a massive chessboard made him feel sick, because Dumbledore did have that mentality.

What was worse were their attitudes.

Many of the Order members, barring a couple, were pureblood witches and wizards, and some of them hadn't really even spoken to a muggleborn in their lives, and as a result many of them had much the same prejudices as the Death eaters only they weren't as extreme. But there were times the Potters chose not to attend, unfortunately it had made some of the members who thought more with their mouths and less with their heads believe they were Death eaters themselves. Lily and James ignored that little mob. They weren't going to bother defending themselves, nor were they going to say they would rather fight the bastard who was waging a double war on the muggle world and the magical world, and not caring who he killed in the meantime, since they knew the mob wouldn't listen.

Granted, Lily had been pissed at first, but so had he. Now they didn't really pay much attention.

Others simply didn't like muggleborns like the typical pureblood didn't because they believed that as muggleborns they wanted to change magical culture and everything they knew because many muggleborns were often heard complaining about the differences in the magical world.

They need not have worried about Lily and James - both had passed the point where they believed the magical world could be changed because they had both realised magical culture was very different and there was nothing they could do about it, and after everything that had happened they had passed the point of interest and had approached apathy with the speed of an Intercontinental Missile.

They didn't care about the wizarding world, and they preferred the world of tombs, deserted cities and temples to the living world since they knew that was where the wizarding world would head if they continued to murder everyone they didn't like. But after everything that had happened over the last few years, James would personally be happy if the war DID wipe out British wizards.

James hadn't blamed his wife for refusing to attend tonight's meeting, she was under enough strain as it was and the last thing he wanted to do was put their child at risk. If Dumbledore didn't like it, that was just too fucking bad. James didn't know that his thoughts mirrored Lily, but it didn't matter. Besides Lily didn't like the Order of the Phoenix since she was certain they'd been manipulating her and James into joining when so many other muggleborns could make contributions and maybe do something.

Instead the pair of them had to contend being the only muggleborns in the group, forced to listen to the pureblood majority who made up the group talk about the murders of muggleborns sound like an everyday event.

"Ah, James," Dumbledore was standing up in front of the massive table with dozens of other witches and wizards, James recognised many of them but he and his wife hadn't really bothered to socialise with many of them. "But where is Lily? She should be here."

"My wife didn't want to come," James replied, deciding to be honest. "After the attack in the alley, can you blame her?"

Minerva McGonagall spoke up, looking worried. She had always been fond of the Potters before they'd married though she was unaware that they'd lost their respect for her a long time ago. "Is she alright?" she asked looking worried and concerned. "Is the wee bairn okay?"

James wasn't sure how to answer that question because of the person asking it. The concern was touching but in his opinion too late; McGonagall had been the deputy headmistress, and she had had the power to give more help for the muggleborns like him and Lily than the others, but she hadn't done it.

He would never forget the times the Junior Death eaters sometimes went too far and she and Dumbledore didn't do anything to punish them, and just said it was just harmless pranking and that they should be forgiven. It was because of those actions the Death eaters believed they could anything and everything to make other people's lives a living hell, to say nothing of Bagnold's stance of placating their worthless families by following Dumbledore's example and doing nothing.

Why Dumbledore couldn't see his policy of turning the other cheek was doing more harm than good was anybody's guess.

"She'll be fine," he said at last without giving too much away, knowing if he gave too much away then Dumbledore would ask too many questions - his interest in his unborn child and the one Alice Longbottom was carrying herself was too obvious. The less he knew the better. "We'd both been through a lot today."

If James had hoped the Order meeting to begin after that he was in for a disappointment. Molly Weasley opened her fat mouth. "A pregnant woman has no place in the fighting. Lily has finally realised her place is in the home."

Alice shouted a protest at Molly since she did as much as Lily when it came to fighting, as James stiffened, and his voice was even more dangerous. "Lily and I were caught unawares by the Death eater attack. What was she supposed to do? She hid in a shop and provided cover. I think you'll find my wife is more talented than you are," he said, ignoring the bridling woman who had poked her nose and her fat mouth into their lives without thinking that perhaps she should just keep her opinions to herself. But Molly's unwanted opinion didn't make him angry, no what made him angry was how the attention of the Order had been placed at the Potters' door.

Arthur didn't say a word, he just pulled his wife down and shook his head. James felt nothing for the henpecked man, and was grateful he had married a woman who had some common sense between her ears, and didn't use her mouth each second when no one would want to listen to her.

"Excuse me, but I was under the impression this meeting was concerning the war, not whether my wife is pregnant and should be cooking as if nothing had happened. Can we get on with this please?"

Dumbledore nodded when he finally saw that he wasn't going to get anything out of James. He had hoped to find out a little bit more about what the Potters had done in the attack. But he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Yes, we can. A good idea James, but I would like to speak to you about your use of spells in the battle-"

"That was not a battle," Moody interrupted with his characteristic growl. James didn't know if the man was defending him or not, but frankly he was too happy that he was being defended against Dumbledore by someone like Moody. The auror's impatience was so thick you could see him clenching his fists angrily. James eyed him with respect since it proved that Dumbledore's constant holier than thou stupidity was grating on the scarred and grizzled dark wizard catcher as it was on the Potters. "We had our arses kicked Albus because you keep insisting we should stun them to give them the chance to repent. The only thing these scum understand is how to kill people, and we'll never match that if we keep using stunners. Face facts, it is not going to happen!"

There were voices that muttered in agreement with that stance and Dumbledore and his little posse of sycophants who repeated his talk the Death eaters should be forgiven and their crimes forgotten took the opposing view. James had to fight the urge to snicker at the look on Dumbledore's face as the voices became more annoyed.

This was one of the reasons why the Order of the Phoenix simply didn't work.

Too many of the members had been killed and their families along with them simply because they had naively followed the view the war could be ended with stunners, but all that happened was the order members who stunned one Death eater and stunned two others before fighting more would have to face the 3 they had fought before in a never ending battle, and the Death eaters didn't show mercy. They went for the jugular and they enjoyed playing games which would get order members who didn't like fighting killed after they grew tired of repeating the cycle of being stunned and waking up or being revived by one of their pals and fighting back even harder before deciding enough was enough.

The Potters were one of a handful of members who used excessive force against the Death eaters, Moody was another. James and Lily didn't like killing anyone. The only problem was they were often caught up in situations where they would have no choice but to kill, they didn't like it but that was life. Lily was pregnant, and the Death eaters were trying to kill them because of their blood statuses - was it any wonder the Potters were killing the Death eaters nowadays?

Molly Weasley just couldn't keep her gob shut. "Albus is right, if we kill any of them we prove we're no better than the Death eaters. Besides Albus always says there are alternatives to killing someone!"

There were overlapping voices of agreement from the Dumbledore posse but James saw the majority of people from Alastor Moody and Frank Longbottom and others looking at Molly with disdain. You could always count on her to stick up for Dumbledore even when it was clear the old wizard was clearly in the wrong.

James had often asked himself why Dumbledore had inducted Molly and Arthur into the Order, and had guessed not many people had wanted to get involved with the war, or wanted to put themselves into a position where they'd be killed. But why would the Weasley parents join when they had kids? For all Molly's harping about being a parent, she wasn't a good one if she thought coming to these meetings and talking about fuck all was going to help.

Some of those people had been labelled as dark by Dumbledore which James saw as a little extreme, but James saw the Greengrasses and their stance of neutrality as a sign many people didn't want to get involved because it could get them killed. James was not surprised by their stance.

The Greengrass family had a newly born daughter, they weren't going to make her into an orphan for Albus Dumbledore. Besides he didn't really care if the Greengrass family and others were dark; they had more than enough enemies as it was without labelling others whose only crime was having minds of their own and didn't follow the old fool who was too blind to see that not everyone gave a damn about the so called 'Greater Good' that he preached on a daily basis. If Dumbledore couldn't see for himself that the Greengrass family simply wanted to be left alone to protect their child, then he was even more out of it than James had thought.

Two muggleborns being labelled dark simply because they didn't want to fight, ridiculous.

If he had had his way, he and Lily wouldn't be involved in this in the first place. And then he and his wife would be labelled as dark simply because they didn't want anything to do with Dumbledore. Free will was something alien to the old fool.

"Enough!" Sirius Black barked, and everyone shut up. "It's time to wake up, we managed to stop Voldemort today but the war's not going to stop just because of that! We need to fight back."

James didn't hold his breath, knowing full well nothing enlightening would come out of this.

"We can't become like the Death eaters!" Molly simply wouldn't let it go.

James sighed under his breath and wished he had something for his growing headache, but he needn't have bothered to hide his sigh - the ambient noise in the room made his sigh unheard if he'd done it aloud. So much for the idiots getting their fingers out of their arses.

Black glared at the increasingly fat woman who put more pounds on with each of her many pregnancies. "Listen, the longer this war goes on the more people who agree with Voldemort will flock to his cause, and believe they're invincible. It's time for you to wake up; we are losing this war. Say it with me, Weasley, perhaps it will sink in!"

Rolling his eyes at the sight of the bunch of the Order members wincing in fear, and look around themselves as if expecting the Dark Lord himself to appear with his haunting bone white skin that looked curiously like a cross between snake scales and human skin, and those red eyes narrowed into slits, James wondered if the Order members were stupid. The Order headquarters were always warded to prevent the taboo working, and since Dumbledore said it, why would this bunch of Dumbledore worshippers fear it and have little faith in their leader?

James eyed Sirius Black wonderingly. He had never liked the marauders for the way they bullied others at school, to this day he was pleased he had never joined their little gang of misfits though they had only pranked him during the night until he had cursed them all so badly they had decided he wasn't worth it. Gryffindors were supposed to be brash and brawny, but in Jame's eyes they were a bunch of fools who rushed in stupidly, but after that night when he had lost his temper they had backed off.

He had done it every month and year afterwards to simply get them off his back, and he had built his repertoire of curses. McGonagall had scolded him each time, but James had ignored it since the woman was too weak willed to do anything more. But now James was seeing a different side of them. He still didn't like them though because he had met dozens of Death eaters who had probably only joined the Dark Lord simply to get revenge on people like Black and Longbottom for their actions, and he wondered if Black's little speech was said more out of pity than genuine anger. If it wasn't for him and his idiot friends then maybe those same people wouldn't have joined the enemy. Their all out secret little war with the Slytherins and the Junior Death eaters had only stoked the fire in their minds and made them join Voldemort in waves.

James didn't bother adding anything meaningful to the table - he didn't even care when he was rebuked by Dumbledore and Molly over his brutal approach to fighting, he had been rebuked so many times in the past he didn't let it get to him anymore. They hadn't been there, they hadn't seen many of the battles with the Death eaters, and so they couldn't claim the moral high ground.

He had done what he had too to fight back and to protect his wife and child. If they wanted to practice a philosophy that would get them killed, then they could so long as he and his wife were left out of it. If James followed their philosophy, Lily and their kid would be dead. No chance. Besides he had protested more than once in the past, and nothing good had ever come out of those protests.

When the meeting was finally over after an hour with nothing really planned, much to the annoyance of James and others who wanted Dumbledore to actually prove to them he knew what he was doing to fight, James was about to leave and head back to have a talk with someone more intelligent than this bunch when he was stopped.

"James, could you please wait for a few minutes? I would like to talk with you," Dumbledore called out.

James cursed the old wizard angrily. He just wanted to get back to his wife and unborn child, and get away from morons like the Weasleys, and he wanted to talk to his wife urgently. Steeling himself for the encounter - James didn't doubt the old fool would lecture him about the use of force - he sat back down in his chair. To his surprise James wasn't the only one staying; the Longbottoms were here too. While he wasn't completely fond of Frank, James did respect him and his own wife, Alice. Alice Longbottom had been one of Lily's best friends at Hogwarts, and like Lily she was pregnant and had fought against Voldemort personally a few times.

Lily and James were suspicious about why Dumbledore seemed to not care about the fact he had two pregnant women in his little band, and why he didn't even try to stop them from fighting. He didn't actively encourage them to fight, but the fact was Voldemort seemed to appear from nowhere, and launched an attack with Lily and Alice nearby.

The Potters had spoken to Alice about it once since Frank was one of those people who respected Dumbledore enough to believe he was a great wizard but not a practical thinker in this war, and they didn't want their suspicions getting back to the old wizard. Fortunately, Alice was worried as well. James was glad it wasn't just her.

James pushed those thoughts out of his mind - he was convinced by now that Dumbledore was trained in the mind arts - and focused instead on Lily and wanting to get back to her, and waited for the old fool to talk.

Dumbledore didn't begin with his usual pleasantries for a rare change. Instead, he immediately got down to business, his face was grave. "I was hoping that Lily would've been here," he began, "but I'm afraid we shall have to speak about this now. I shall say this only once because the information is too sensitive."

"What is it Albus?" Frank asked.

Dumbledore took a deep breath like an actor taking a dramatic pause, not seeing James roll his eyes at the posturing. "I am afraid Lord Voldemort is after both children born into your families," he said, before adding, "I am sorry."

"Why is he after both children, that doesn't make any sense to me," James said, trying to hold back his fear. No wonder the bastard had zeroed in on him and Lily in the alley. He was after their child, the sick fuck.

Alice nodded in agreement. "Why would he want to kill our child," he waved a hand at herself and Frank, "and Lily and James's baby?"

"A prophecy was made some time ago. It said that the one to be born to parents who had defied Voldemort 3 times before would go on to have the power he didn't have," Dumbledore said gravely.

The Longbottoms were amazed but horrified. "Our baby could be the one to stop You Know Who?" Frank asked in awe, though both James and his own wife were happy with the idea. Alice even elbowed her husband in the ribs.

James couldn't believe it himself, and he was suspicious when he realised that Voldemort had fought both he and his wife and the Longbottoms 3 times over the past year. "When was this prophecy made?" he asked suspiciously. "Lily and I faced Voldemort only today, and Frank and Alice faced him the third time last week. When was this prophecy made?"

The Longbottoms began to see the sense of his questioning, and they didn't like the way the man whom they had both been brought up to admire looked uncomfortable. "Albus?" Alice prompted with her voice shaking.

"Tell us," Frank prompted.

Dumbledore sighed and he realised he was being cornered. "A year ago I heard the prophecy," he admitted.

"And you're only telling us this NOW?!"

* * *

Lily looked up startled when she heard the sound of her husband flooing into their temporary house. Lily had just been cooking to pass the time and to also give her husband something to eat when he returned, and while she hated the thought of being a mere housewife like Molly Weasley who believed that was all a wife should be, she knew that James deserved a good meal.

Regardless of knowing her husband was in the house, Lily still took out her wand and padded softly to the doorway. There was a good reason why she was cautious. Too many Death eaters had managed to break into houses through the floo connections and too many people had died as a result. It was just another example of how bad the magical world and the Ministry was getting and how well connected the Death eaters were if they could use the connections like that.

The moment she laid eyes on James she pointed her wand at his head. "Did you ever go on a date with Marlene McKinnon like Sirius Black dared you to go on?"

"No." James grinned at the memory of how he'd ignored the dare when they were 16-17 years old respectively.

Lily lowered the wand only slightly as another question came to mind. "In the tombs in Egypt, one of the curse breaker students with us tried to open a chest. What happened to him?"

James's grin disappeared. "He was melted because of pressurised salt acid."

Lily lowered the wand at last, and she grinned at her husband. The Potters were both satisfied with the answers though James hadn't asked any questions himself, but then he hadn't needed to. Her reactions to the answers was proof enough for her. The curse breaking answers were known only to them and the goblins, who wouldn't tell anyone anything about something like that if they were paid to.

"I've got something for you to eat," Lily said and she led her husband over to the kitchen table and she placed two hot plates of food onto the table. James tucked in, he was so hungry he couldn't believe it though he wanted desperately to tell his wife about what had happened. "The Order meeting was the same," he said without being prompted, "still the same endless and pointless debate about using force. Black was telling Molly Weasley that she had to face facts that we're losing this war, but I don't know if he only said that out of guilt for the number of people he and his bunch of friends had bullied who joined the Death eaters."

Lily made a face. "Maybe," she said. "What else happened?"

James took a deep breath. "Dumbledore asked me about you, but I told him you were resting after the attack. McGonagall sends her best wishes by the way, but that's not the worst of it. Dumbledore held me and the Longbottoms back. There was a prophecy made a year ago, that Dumbledore knew about, that said that a child born to parents who had fought and escaped Voldemort 3 times would have some power he didn't know and would defeat him. The Longbottom's child fits the bill. But ours do as well."

Lily could not believe it. "What? A prophecy, and let me guess Voldemort believes it?"

"Voldemort doesn't know the wording," James pointed out. "All he knows are a few lines. Apparently Dumbledore heard it, but a Death eater managed to learn the first few lines. I don't know what happened - why a Death eater was nearby, what Dumbledore was doing at the time, so don't ask. But he does believe it. Voldemort's like all those leaders in the muggle world who are obsessed with things like the occult, only in his case he knows what is real and what is just superstition. Dumbledore wouldn't tell us what the prophecy actually said either, he just summarised it for us."

Lily was silent, then she began to shake with anger. "You mean to tell me that all those times you and I faced that bastard for the last year, Dumbledore was encouraging it so then he could just have some secret weapon, an ace to use just the once and then discard without a care in the world?!" She shrieked with rage. James was just as angry, his retelling of what happened after the meeting and his wife's own temper stoking his own anger. But he knew he needed to keep a cooler head in the face of his wife's temper. But it was hard - the weapon his wife was talking about, the one Dumbledore wanted so badly to end the war, could very well be their son. "That's about it," he said.

Lily paced the room like an angry tigress. "I knew that old fool was keeping one too many secrets that he shouldn't have done," she snapped. "I didn't think he would be so callous to push a child into the role of some saviour. Who the hell gave it, and where the hell did Dumbledore hear in the first place?" James didn't reply. He didn't know.

Suddenly Lily whipped out her wand and began casting a few spells. James watched her in sudden worry. "What is it?"

Lily ignored him and didn't speak until she'd finished casting. There was a purple light that suddenly appeared on James's clothes that she quickly dispelled. "That should do for now," she remarked. "Sorry, I wanted to check to make sure there weren't listening charms on you, and there was. That light."

James gritted his teeth and asked himself if Dumbledore even knew he was making himself more and more unpopular. He sighed and looked his wife straight in the eye. "I'll keep watch on myself every time we meet him," he vowed. "But in the meantime I think we should rely on ourselves to make sure our child is safe."

Lily reflexively placed both of her hands on her pregnant belly as if she could protect her child herself just by posing like that. She sat down and looked at James. "What do you think we can do? Voldemort is hunting us down, and whether or not we believe in the prophecy or not there are others who do, Voldemort and Dumbledore are two of those people. I don't know if Frank or Alice believe in the prophecy or not, and to be honest I don't care."

"Do you think we should include them, make plans that could protect ourselves?"

Lily thought for a second. "We could. But they might want to depend on Dumbledore for help, I don't see how we can persuade them otherwise. We'll speak to them at some point, sound them out." Something occurred to Lily at that point. "I think we should also have the baby in a muggle hospital, mostly out of safety but also because I don't want our child to have a magical Britain citizenship, and I think we should get the goblins to help us with that angle."

Muggleborns who were born outside the influence of the Ministry were automatically chosen to attend Hogwarts. But with goblin help and having them born in muggle hospitals, first generation muggleborns could opt for their children to be educated abroad. It wasn't commonly done, but Lily and James had heard on the grapevine that more and more muggleborns were opting for that little loophole. The Ministry could stop it happening, but they doubted it would happen.

James's eyes widened, but he wasn't really surprised by Lily's suggestion. "Are you saying you want our baby to not go to Hogwarts?" Personally he didn't really care when he remembered his own experiences at the school, remembered being called 'mudblood' for the first time, how that disgusting name and the pureblood's disturbing attitude had followed him and other muggleborns throughout their Hogwarts years. He didn't want his son or daughter going through the same thing if he could help it.

"I don't want our baby to face Voldemort full stop, and if he does go to Hogwarts then he'll be in danger. You know Dumbledore, he might say he cares, but he doesn't seem to care about the welfare of the children under his care. We saw it all the time during our time at the school, and how many times did we beg him to do something about the Death eater wannabes at school? I don't want our son to go through the same grief, only to endure worse than us. What would stop Voldemort or Dumbledore from causing trouble? Besides, in another country he could learn how to defend himself, and live peacefully for a time without constant pressure and attention, and I don't trust Dumbledore. Knowing now what he's been doing for the past year now makes sense to me, who's to say he won't push our child into dangerous situations that could see him get killed? No, James. I'm not having it. I don't care what the old bastard thinks."

Lily's mind was racing as a number of plans shot through her mind. Many of them would probably take time to really think through and had dozens of flaws, but with James's help and insight she should be able to come up with a good plan that would save their son.

By now the Potters had begun to accept the fact their child would probably have little choice but to be a key player in the war. They didn't like it but it was something they would probably have to accept. But Lily wasn't finished. "I think we should try to kill Voldemort ourselves," she added grimly, remembering the results of the scan she'd performed in the alley. "While you were fighting him, I scanned him and I found out what he'd done to himself."

James was about to cheer that at last they might be able to stop the war by unravelling the rituals Voldemort had used to make himself invincible, but the look on Lily's face stilled him. "What is it?"

Lily took a deep breath. "Voldemort created horcruxes, James. Plural. His soul is literally in tatters from being torn apart god knows how many times. Its hanging by threads. It's a wonder he's still alive and sane, more or less sane anyway," she added after a second's thought, "but what I can't understand is why he would depend on horcruxes for immortality."

James was equally surprised by the news. He almost laughed. Horcruxes were one of the biggest jokes in curse breaker circles, though in other circles were a serious threat since many dark witches and wizards had decided ripping their souls would make them immortal. No one knew who had created them first, there were stories of soul fragments during the times of the druids, but their common use occurred in Ancient Egypt when stupid wizards in the courts of the pharaohs had been ordered to find a way to make their rulers immortal.

There were even cruder examples in places like Australia, Africa, Peru, Malaysia and America where the ancient natives of those countries had studied magic. The horcrux was the end result. It was also a trap. The druids and the Ancient Egyptians had quickly worked out that when you split the soul you made it vulnerable and easy to destroy. It was like a burglar getting into a house and unlocking a bedroom window from the inside only to be caught because they'd left a clue behind. But in the case of the horcrux, if you had one of them belonging to a pharaoh or a common witch or wizard then you had a way to drain both the fragment and the individual of their magical power.

As curse breakers Lily and James rarely had a week when they never had to deal with them. Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Persia, Pakistan and even places in China along with others were littered with the disgusting things. And they always drained them of their magic to preserve the treasure they were preserved inside.

Soul fragments needed a vessel to house them, like the human body housed a soul to balance the boundaries between the spirit and the physical form.

The goblins hated the things because so many priceless treasures had been lost because they were either destroyed by accident over the centuries, or idiots had believed in the dark arts books that described how to destroy a horcrux, where they would have to destroy the fragment and the object that housed it with a killing curse or something just as powerful. While it was theoretically possible for someone to feel true remorse for the soul fragment to reunite with the main part of the soul, it had never actually happened before. Lily and James both knew better than to expect remorse from someone like Voldemort. Killing him would be a mercy - for the people he'd murdered over the years.

Lily and James had learnt about horcruxes during their training. They had been taught the specifics of the horcrux and the dangers of using the things, but also how to safely deal with them with the help of a ritual. Contrary to what some people might imagine the horcruxes didn't give people immortality - the people who'd created those ancient horcruxes over the centuries were proof it didn't work, and yet they still found them. A horcrux was just basically an echo of the main soul, but a powerful one and when the main body and soul died out the horcrux was diminished. If Voldemort lost his life now the creation of so many horcruxes would probably go on, but in an equal diminished state. Lily and James had performed the ritual many times in the past, and while they were prepared to deal with Voldemort to give their baby a chance to live, there was one tiny problem.

"We can't perform the ritual, not without a soul piece belonging to him," James stated the obvious. "Besides, if we were to use one we'd need to know more about who Voldemort was before he became a dark wizard. For all we know his name could be Ben Sutton, or something."

"I know. But I was thinking that if we can perform the ritual with Voldemort nearby-"

James nodded as his mind picked up on the thread Lily had left off on. "Then we can still have a piece of soul to work with, but the problem is I don't remember during our training that that was possible. And there's another thing - how do we know where Voldemort will be? We can't carry the tools needed for the ritual around with us, and hope for an attack. Voldemort rarely leads the attacks himself unless he's sure he can win."

Lily agreed with the logic. She went silent and then her heart sank. "James, we might have no choice but to hope our baby isn't the child," she whispered, feeling bad for saying such things. "You know how he's always putting pureblood ideals first, lets hope he goes after Alice and Frank."

It was an awful thing to say, and neither Lily or James were stupid enough to believe that maybe the Longbottoms felt the same way and were saying the same things in their own home. If they were then neither Potter could blame them.

"You know that Voldemort might not care," James pointed out though he felt the same thing. "He might decide to simply kill us and our babies just so then he could ensure his own safety in the long run. And if Dumbledore tries to influence more parents to have children in the same manner as us, making parents fight that monster 3 times, then Voldemort can do the same thing over and over again until Dumbledore realises its hopeless and the prophecy just isn't going to work."

"I still believe the old fool waited after a year to tell us," Lily growled. "I wonder why he involved us."

"I think he was desperate. There aren't that many women in his order that he could sacrifice for his 'greater good' and there are plenty of people out there who hate and fear Voldemort. He claims that those who have thrice defied Voldemort would fit some of the criteria, but the problem is unless he got Molly and Arthur Weasley to have a kid in the middle of a war, and facing that snake faced piece of shit, he would have to depend on others. It wouldn't be difficult for him to set someone up to do all that."

Lily shook her head at the cold bloodedness of Dumbledore's scheme, but she also had to hide her admiration for the scale of it. "Did he say who made the prophecy?"

"No. I did try to press him, but he refused to talk."

Lily gave a derogatory snort in her mouth. "Surprise, surprise." She had never had a great opinion about divination. The subject had always been a crappy one at Hogwarts, in fact, it wasn't even taught at the school. But Lily had never believed it possible to tell the future by reading tea leaves. In her mind the future was something that was constantly shifting beyond the extent of the human imagination to work out. It figured supposedly intelligent wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort would believe in something so stupid, and waste time expending energy trying to fulfil it.

James stood up and walked over to his wife and pulled her into a hug. "I think we should try the ritual on Voldemort, but I also think we should try and find a place to live. Get away from Godric's hollow, and if the ritual fails we think of something else."

He felt her nod into his chest. She agreed with his plan, and she pulled back so their eyes were separated by only a distance of inches. "James, I also think we should be prepared for the worst," she said.

James felt as if someone was walking over his grave. But Lily had spent the past few hours in the library reading the books that were collected there to gather dust and read some of the books she'd kept for herself when they'd been moved here after the second meeting with Voldemort, and she had learnt something interesting. She outlined a plan for James and the more he listened the more he became fascinated and happy. James had many doubts about the ritual working on Voldemort's soul piece rather than a genuine horcrux, but if what Lily was telling him was true then they could still help their son after they died, but they hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Lily looked adoringly at the little baby wrapped in her arms. Harry Potter was a beautiful baby, only a few months old after being born in a hospital in Liverpool, and already the boy had messy black hair - inherited from his father, and his mother's green eyes. Harry didn't know how cruel the world was, he seemed content to eat, sleep, shit himself, cry, and laugh. Lily and James had gotten their wish of having Harry born outside the magical world, but the Longbottoms had had their own baby. Neville Frank Longbottom had been born in St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore was not happy about where Harry was born, and both Potters refused to even take their son to the Order meetings that still took place. They were still in Godric's hollow but now they were under the protection of the Fidelius charm. Lily had to admit it was a good idea, but the dangers were too great. What made it worse was that their secret keeper was also protecting the Longbottoms.

Peter Pettigrew wasn't the person Lily would've chosen as Secret Keeper, but the Longbottoms had agreed with Dumbledore when the old wizard claimed no one would expect Peter to be given such an important role.

Lily couldn't understand her friend sometimes. Alice was like her, desperate for the other one to be saved to gave her own child the chance to live. Thinking of Alice made Lily upset because their friendship had taken a battering during the final stages of pregnancy. They'd rarely met and they both saw in each others eyes the wish they hoped the other's child would be the one in the prophecy, though James had made a point by saying that perhaps Voldemort would simply come after both of them and kill them without a care in the world.

That was one reason she was concerned by the stance of having a the same person as keeper. It was too dangerous. Pettigrew was a mediocre wizard. His skills lay in potions only, that was it. He was useless when it came to duelling and his spellwork was dismal. Against a wizard like Voldemort he was hopeless.

While she disliked Black and Lupin, the former because of his immature streak and the latter because of his inability to move on from his 'oh, I'm a werewolf, woe is me, I can never have a life like others' attitude, she would have preferred them to Pettigrew and she would have been happier with someone like McGonagall. But like with many things Dumbledore had ignored them. Both Potters had refused to allow the old wizard anywhere near their son while the Longbottoms allowed him access to Neville.

They didn't know what he would do, but felt that he wouldn't be able to do anything if one of them was there to stay near Harry. And then there was something else. Dumbledore had pressured both the Potters and the Longbottoms to write their wills up, complete with a list of guardians in case something did happen to Peter that forced the man to give up their locations.

Dumbledore had commented that Lily and James should consider the Dursleys as guardians for Harry. Why he was poking his nose into something not even his concern bothered Lily no end since it wasn't his family, not his concern, and she had told him that to his face. Whether or not he got the nint, who could say? Both Potters had refused, the memory of what had happened the last time they'd met the Dursleys clear in their minds, and both of them wondered if Dumbledore wanted their child dead even if Neville was the supposed chosen one.

If so, then he was going the right way about it.

Lily had not seen her sister and her fucked up pig of a brother in law since their parent's funeral. The Death eaters had killed their families, though why the Dursleys had been left alone Lily did not know. Lily was certain it was Snape who had told his master where their families were, and he wouldn't be surprised if that were true. But she didn't want her son to live anywhere near the Dursleys. Dumbledore seemed to believe that if she and James forgave Petunia and Vernon all the enmity would disappear like the steam in a kettle evaporating, but her sister's hatred of magic was much too deep, and Dumbledore didn't understand it and probably never would.

Petunia had always been jealous of Lily, though the redhead wished she would grow up and make something of her life rather than wallow in her growing hatred. Petunia had brains and talents, Lily knew that and she had tried to encourage it to stop the older woman from constantly following her like a fucking groupie, hoping to catch a bit of Lily's effortless glory, but Petunia hadn't and she had let whatever talent existed in her wither and atrophy like a dying tree that had simply given up on life after giving it all it had.

Lily knew that Petunia had been contacting Dumbledore to allow her attendance at Hogwarts, but because Petunia was a muggle and couldn't practice magic she was denied. That and their parent's pride in her grades and what she was learning at Hogwarts even if they lacked the understanding of what she was learning, had done little to help her relationship with Petunia, who had just stewed in her jealousy.

Lily grimaced as she thought about what had come next, a match made in heaven. She didn't understand what her sister saw in Vernon, and before they'd died neither had their parents.

Vernon was a bore. He was so piggy, greedy and morbidly obese she was surprised the sun could come out. His prejudices about people who weren't white British made her sick, but he hated anything abnormal, so really he and Petunia were a good match, though she felt her sister could have done much much better.

Lily was the epitome of abnormality in their eyes, and so was James and so they didn't get along. Lily had often wondered what her sister had told him about her, but now she didn't care. Worse, Petunia and Vernon were ignorant of magic in so many ways despite their awareness of it's existence. They didn't realise that raising a child would mean many counts of accidental magic, and they would probably slap Harry or beat him just to stop him being a 'freak' if he was raised by them and despite growing up with a witch, Petunia had never bothered to gain any insight into what caused accidental magic.

She would probably slap and verbally abuse Harry if Dumbledore had his way, and her baby boy was to be raised by them. But Vernon was more extreme - she still remembered having to visit Petunia to wish her well and to tell her sister that it would be best to leave. Lily had been pregnant at the time, and she had needed to banish the fat pig into a wall to stop him from 'doing his duty, by riding the world of freaks.' But Lily was furious; she'd woken the pig up and used curse after curse on him. None of them were harmful in the long run, they were just painful, but since Petunia and Vernon both had medieval attitudes and mindsets when it came to magic, they wouldn't know that.

Lily had hated having to hurt Vernon, but she was protecting her baby. Why should she care if she was hurting a threat? The only problem was the Death eaters caused more pain for muggles, and so Lily found it hard not to think that maybe she was no better than her enemies. No. She was better. Lily knew Vernon, knew he was a brute with a lack of common sense and decency; in that case he was a good match for Petunia. She had told the two muggles that if they wanted to be killed by Voldemort, then so be it. She warned them the Dark Lord wouldn't give a shit if they tried to tell him they didn't know where the Potters were.

Then she and James had left and she hadn't heard from her twisted relatives again. Whether Vernon would heed her warnings or just ignore them since he believed his family were safe regardless, Lily didn't know. Probably the latter - Vernon was so arrogant and didn't realise that when someone like Lord Voldemort was around, no-one was safe. Vernon would probably think he could boss a 'freak' like Voldemort around without realising the Dark Lord would kill him and his family.

Hadn't the fat pig been watching the news? Lily knew that while the Ministry had managed to mitigate the worst of the Death eater's activities like wanton murder, torture, rape and kidnapping, some things had slipped through the cracks, but if Petunia hadn't seen the signs and realised what was going on in reality, then there was truly no hope for her.

Petunia was a mother now herself, Lily was aware of it, but she hadn't met her nephew. But she pitied him because while the kid was innocent now under Petunia's care he'd be smothered and mollycoddled, and with Vernon as a dad he'd probably grow up into a thug.

Dumbledore had also given the Potters and the Longbottoms a copy of a book about Blood magic. That had been a surprise for the Potters, and it made them suspect Dumbledore was deliberately trying to find a way for Harry to be given to Petunia.

Blood magic was one of those forms of magic which had so much potential, yet the Ministry of Magic in all its awe inspiring wisdom didn't have any qualms about banning study of the magic. Lily had already encountered different forms of magic which likewise were banned by the Ministry simply because they didn't understand it. She had lost count of the number of times she and James had found dozens of books, scrolls, and texts on the walls of tombs that contained all kinds of archaic magic. Besides she read it anyway, after scanning the book and seeing if there was a compulsion charm on it to make them read it, and to use some of the magic to help safeguard their family. There was such a spell on the book, and the utter shamelessness of Dumbledore showed its ugly head again.

The blood magic book joined another book Lily had in her own collection, which she felt could help her save Harry and protect him. She was curious why Dumbledore had given her a book so openly, but she quickly learnt about a sacrificial ritual that if powered by blood magic would be powerful enough to prevent her son being hit by a killing curse. While she was surprised Dumbledore would openly give her such a book with such a ritual, the compulsion charm made her realise that Dumbledore had already decided that she and Alice, not to mention James and Frank were expendable. She and James had not told Alice any of their suspicions because of the rift that had grown between them. Alice and Frank had decided to distance themselves from the Potters, though they didn't understand why.

Lily and James had also actively stopped attending the Order meetings since they didn't want to spend too much time in Dumbledore's company without their son. Besides when they had attended a meeting with their son, Molly Weasley had tried to offer 'advice' that came across as opinionated and patronising. Weasley had also hinted she didn't think Lily and James should be parents, and Lily had almost lashed out at the arrogant bitch for giving an opinion she really shouldn't have. Not for the first time Lily wondered what Molly actually did for the Order, and she knew her husband sometimes asked himself the same question, though Lily always asked why was Molly and Arthur special. Lily had only seen the other woman fight just once, and while the woman was good with magic, she had gone up to some of the Death eaters that she'd bound to the ground.

She had leaned in, hands on hips, and snapped, "What do you think you were doing?" The Death eaters hadn't been intimidated by the fat middle aged witch with dull red hair. They'd laughed instead, at least until Lily had fired a curse at one of them when one had tried to escape. Molly had shouted at Lily, but she had met her match that day, and after that the enmity between them had grown.

While Arthur was a nice man and easier to speak to than his wife, Lily and James did not like the way the man spoke to them and about muggles as though they were animals to be gawped at in a zoo. Learning to look after Harry had been tricky, but they'd managed it in the end and now they have learned how to take care of the boy with a little help and advice from Poppy Pomfrey; the school healer's experience might by more geared to healing students who'd fallen from their broomsticks, but she wasn't stupid when it came to basic baby care. Plus, she wasn't as critical as Molly Weasley.

They had also made it clear Dumbledore wasn't to know anything about her examinations of Harry. Dumbledore would try to gain an advantage.

During the time where she and James spent their days taking Harry out into the muggle world - it was a risk, but the Potters didn't want to spend every waking moment cooped up inside a cottage everyday doing the same things and wondering they would even be alive the next day, and besides if she and her husband were to die then she wanted to spend as much time with her son as she could. Their safety was still a risk because Voldemort could launch an attack anytime on the city itself.

The Potters also bought newspapers during those little days out. Harry enjoyed them and would laugh out loud when he saw ducks, cars, trains, dogs and cats, oblivious to the hell going on because of a handful of fanatics who didn't realise the harm their little war was causing. Harry was taken everywhere. They went on theme park rides, to museums, to the zoo and the sea life centre and they went on heritage railways, anything to make their baby laugh.

And in all that time Lily and James were putting the final phases of their plans into operation. Together they both transferred small amounts of their memories and knowledge into Harry's mind, always aware of the potential brain damage their son might receive if they poured too much in. When they were finished, Lily would have to place a time lock on the memories so then they would open when Harry was old enough to understand what was in his mind. Lily called it his inheritance. It was more precious than gold, silver, books or whatever trinkets there were in Gringotts.

October, 1981.

Lily's eyes watered as she stood over her baby boy who was crying his heart out, the smart little boy already knew that something terrible was happening, but she was thankful he didn't know that Lord Voldemort was inside the house. Somehow she wasn't surprised Pettigrew had betrayed them to the monster, and she doubted that Alice or Frank were safe either. In her heart and mind she cursed the Death eater who had told Voldemort about the prophecy which must have been made in a public place, Dumbledore for pushing her and James into one dangerous mess after another with Voldemort bearing down on them all the time. Lastly she cursed Pettigrew for handing both families on a plate to that monster, and then Voldemort himself for ripping away her life and her husband's from her son, and having more children who could've gone onto doing great things.

Lily was using a brush to lightly paint blood runes onto her son's face, though there were also a few runes in parselmagic. Lily had discovered her ability which was considered another dark art when she was in Egypt and India. While she was there she had spent a lot of time with other parselmouths who'd taught her a great deal about the so called dark art, and they'd given her books written to what for others were squiggles but to parselmouths they were as easy to read as a picture book. Lily had spent a lot of her time experimenting with both parselmagic and blood magic to see if the two could be used in tandem with the necessary sacrifice, and while the two were separated by a great deal there were similarities between them to make it work. The good news was parselmagic and blood magic sacrifice rituals worked the same way. But it was Lily's hope the two would be so powerful the backwash might kill Voldemort, though those horcruxes would make it difficult for the bastard to die.

Despite the danger and James yelling for her to take their son and escape so then he could grow up with just one parent in his life, Lily had already tried to see if they could escape, and she was furious when she found a number of spells on the house which prevented anyone from getting out of the house. A quick scan had indicated it was another blood magic spell, but it wasn't from either her or James. Lily had realised that it did come from someone, someone unexpected.

Voldemort himself.

No, Dumbledore couldn't have done. But it was true because she had cast the spell that would narrow in on the witch or wizard the blood magic was drawing its strength from, and it was from Voldemort himself, but had he done it? It seemed a little extreme for a Dark wizard like Voldemort to use magic like that. Burning with curiosity, Lily held her son tightly to her chest when the sound of that dreaded incantation spoken by that cold, high voice that sounded like it was coming from the arctic, "Avada kedavra," and she didn't hear James's voice. The only thing she heard a lifeless thump as James's corpse fell to the ground.

Lily cried out in horror as she used her back to shelter Harry from the exploding door when Voldemort used a curse on the door. Harry cried out with her, their voices drowned when there was nothing but silence behind them. Lily quickly put her baby into the cot, and she stood protectively in front of it. She couldn't help but shudder when she took in the sight of the figure in the doorway. Wrapped in a black cloak with a cowl covering his head, Voldemort didn't look out of place with all the muggle kids and adults out there trick or treating. The only problem was this horror was real.

Voldemort strode into the room, his expression inscrutable as his cold red slit eyes.

"Stand aside, girl," he demanded.

"Wait!" Lily said. "Why did you use blood magic to seal us inside this house?"

Voldemort had never given anyone the impression he was anything but confident in himself, but Lily's unexpected question took him by surprise. "What did you say?" he hissed.

Pleased her question had distracted him momentarily, Lily went on so she could find an opportunity to complete the ritual, "Blood magic. Do you really think I'd stay in this house where me and my son would be killed by you without trying to escape? Please, give me more credit than that. I din't care what Dumbledore might think; my husband and I had no intention of being murdered by you and not be there for our child. Why did you use blood magic?"

Voldemort glared at her. "I didn't," he said. Using his wand he cast a number of spells over himself, muttering in latin the necessary spells to detect blood magic on his person. That gave Lily plenty of time to record the last few minutes of her life along with a quick and hurried message to her son. She basically told him that she would always love him, but he would need to learn how to survive in order to fight this monster.

She didn't close the spell off though she set the time lock to seal the memories and knowledge she and James had passed onto Harry to open in 5-6 years. She didn't have a lot of time to really concentrate on the timing. While she and James had hoped that Harry would live with them and the time lock would open up the knowledge they had in his head, they had hoped it would give him some help when he went to school.

Now it was his only chance to survive. She also cast a few other spells on him while Voldemort was busy.

Finally the Dark lord finished, and he looked furious though the cowl he had covering his head managed to hide his features, but she could see the way his slit like eyes became even more slitted, and his lipless mouth moved as his teeth ground furiously. "I did not use blood magic myself, but someone else did. Who was it, girl?"

She had no desire of telling him. Instead Lily sneered at him, hoping to make him angry enough. "You think I'd tell you? I have a good idea who it was, but since you want to murder me and my son, I'm not going to tell you."

Voldemort remembered why he had come in the first place at the mention of the boy. He pointed his wand dangerously at Lily, all the while thinking that he would solve the mystery of who had used blood magic to seal the house in the first place. He wasn't sure whether to be angry or thankful to whomever it was that two of his biggest annoyances and the little brat who could be destined to be his downfall would be trapped in this house, or furious someone had managed to steal some of his blood to power such a spell.

But that was a matter for later. "Move aside, you silly girl!"

"No!" And with her head raised high, Lily Potter spat out her last defiance. "You'll have to kill me!"

Lily didn't even close her eyes when the bright green light and the rushing sound of the killing curse streaked towards her and hit her in the chest with the force of an express train. As life left her body, she wished her son all the best in the world. "Goodbye Harry, James, I love you both," she thought to herself when the curse impacted on her chest.

And then Lily Potter was dead.

* * *

Lord Voldemort looked down almost regretfully at the dead and still body of Lily Potter. While he and his followers openly hated mudbloods, and everything they stood for despite his own heritage he didn't let that mindless hatred stop him from admiring some mudbloods and their talents.

Lily Potter was one of a dozen who had won his respect. She was skilled in healing, curse breaking, charms, potions, and a host of other branches of magic.

It was just a pity.

Voldemort wasn't so hypocritical that he wouldn't have made an exception for the Potters to join him in his ranks, and he even entertained the fantasy of Lily Potter and Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy carving a path of murder and brutality through the muggle world; he had several female Death eaters in his ranks, and the inclusion of Lily would have made her stand out.

His followers might believe that he would never induct muggleborns into the ranks never mind the Inner circle, and that was true enough but truthfully Voldemort needed a lot of talent in his army if it was to survive, and Lily and James Potter had both impressed him. It took a lot to impress someone like Voldemort.

Unfortunately, it had never happened, the Potters had not seen sense by joining him, and Voldemort knew it would never happen now.

It was truly regrettable. From what his spies had claimed the Potters weren't the typical members of the order. What made it more tragic was that prophecy. Voldemort didn't believe in prophecies, he hadn't even taken divination during his time at Hogwarts because he had always considered the subject to be rubbish, but he hadn't wanted to take anything to chance.

He was still surprised by how easy this all was, in fact he had expected more from Dumbledore besides a fidelius charm, the secrets of the locations of the Longbottoms and the Potters been given to a single person. At the time he had been suspicious that he was wandering into a trap, so he had spent months trying to learn the truth. But he hadn't found any hint of a trap, so he had decided to attack both families on the same night. He had decided to go alone, prepared for anything. But he had been surprised by the revelation of the blood ward. Why would Dumbledore be setting up blood wards with his, Lord Voldemort's, blood? Was he trying to trap him with the Potters? Or was there something more to it?

No matter.

He walked over to the cot, wand in hand.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was pacing his office. While he was pleased his plan to rid the world of Voldemort for a time so then the people of magical Britain could enjoy peace for a change, he was not happy overall. The Potters were dead, the house had been destroyed, and there was a body that could have belonged to Voldemort. Ah, poor Tom, Dumbledore lamented, you were a brilliant student, but its a pity the path you chose led you to this.

But Dumbledore was angry because Harry Potter had disappeared. He had personally visited the cottage when Hagrid had met him and Minerva at Privet drive, the home of the Dursley family, to hand Harry over to Lily's sister.

They were the only family he had left, and the boy needed Lily's blood which ran in Petunia to keep him safe, but he also needed to prove whether Harry would turn down the same path as Voldemort because of his upbringing.

The knowledge that he could have helped Riddle had come too late. He knew the Dursleys would treat him cruelly, but in the long run it was for the best and for the Greater good, and besides if he was right about Harry becoming a horcrux it wouldn't make any difference if the boy was mistreated in any shape or form as he grew up, but still he would be safe from the Death eaters who would probably hunt him down and kill him for what had happened to their master; their hatred of muggleborns was strong enough, to learn the child of two muggleborns had been responsible for Voldemort's..death would stoke the fire. He still wasn't sure if Tom had created horcruxes yet since Horace still wouldn't see the need to serve the Greater good, but he would have plenty of time.

But the boy was gone. Now Dumbledore had no idea where he was, and to make matters worse everyone knew that the child of two muggleborns had saved them all. He didn't know how the information had gotten loose, but he knew it would have repercussions for many years to come since many still disliked muggleborns. Personally Dumbledore didn't really care how magical society felt about the matter, in fact it would probably make things easier for Voldemort to take control over since he could appeal to the pureblood majority that the muggleborns had stolen magic or some other nonsense to fight against him.

Dumbledore couldn't work out how the plan had failed. In his mind he had had it worked out - he would have trapped Lily and James with a blood ward using the blood of Voldemort himself. He actually found it poetic that the dawn of the Dark Lord's end would be helped by the Dark Lord's own blood. He had stolen Tom Riddle's blood a long time ago when he had become increasingly worried about the boy's leanings, so he'd helped himself to his blood to analyse it. He kept a small amount in case it came in handy later. Anyway Voldemort would have two trapped parents and a second generation muggleborn child to deal with, and the blood magic Lily would have studied would have seen her son protected while Voldemort failed to kill him. It was unfortunate two talented people had needed to die, but since it was a war the old wizard considered it a grand sacrifice that was necessary.

His plan and expectations had worked perfectly; Voldemort, having depended on vile forms of magic, had been ripped from his body and was now a wandering wraith, and Harry had probably been marked by something. It was probable the boy was now an accidental horcrux himself, but that couldn't be helped.

The boy would sacrifice himself after spending time with his mother's relatives, and he would be loved for generations for his sacrifice. But the problem was that part of his plan had failed - the boy had vanished, and Dumbledore had no idea where he'd gone.

He had tried to find the boy, but since Lily and James had refused to let him anywhere near the child and Poppy couldn't speak to him, her headmaster, because of healer-patient confidentiality except to give Lily and James parental advice, he didn't have a strand of hair or blood to use, and Fawkes didn't seem inclined to help.

The phoenix had refused to help him look for the boy, in fact he had left only an hour ago when Albus had insisted.

Looking out of the window, he whispered. "I will find you, Harry Potter," he said. "You cannot escape your destiny."

* * *

All around magical Britain people raised their glasses in toast to Harry Potter, and in the muggle world many wizards and witches carelessly flouted the statute of magical secrecy with their antics, but it would be a long, long time before Harry Potter returned.

If ever.

Officer Kate Bourne of the NYPD sighed as she got out of her car with her partner, a rookie Tim Ellison, and walked along the familiar paths into Central Park. It was getting late and she was nearing the end of her shift, but she wouldn't get off duty for another 2 hours. But she knew this call would probably make her busier though she barely noticed it during the routine.

A baby boy had been found abandoned in the park. She hated calls out like this, and as a cop who'd served in the NYPD for more than 7 years she had seen her own fair share of kids in trouble, but she hated them each time because they always filled her mind with bad dreams. Kate had seen many kids who had been abandoned over the years, ranging from babies to small toddlers, and she hated it.

She felt sickened because the parents had either abandoned them because they couldn't cope and look after themselves never mind a child, or the child had been kidnapped for heaven knows what from sexual fetishes or something really bad.

Kate glanced at Tim. The boy had only been in the police for a week, fresh out of training and so ignorant of the world. He would learn, providing he stayed alive long enough, or whether he would develop the balls for the job. Tim had already gotten a macho attitude which he fortunately knew when to turn off, so he was learning what was appropriate or not.

The two police officers walked down the path where there was a small crowd of people gathered around along with a few patrolling police officers near a few trees. Not in a public place, Kate thought to herself, if it was then whoever abandoned the baby would have been seen. Kate nodded to one of them, a friend of hers.

"Becky, what've we got?" Kate asked.

Becky sighed when she came closer to her old friend. "A few minutes ago a jogger called in to say she'd found a baby, a boy by the look of it, just left in the park."

Kate tutted and shook her head, but Tim looked around, "Didn't the jogger see anyone?"

Becky hadn't met the rookie before now, and she had met him and he had just asked a question that should've been obvious. She sent a questioning look at her old friend. Kate rolled her eyes and gestured for Becky to go on. "No, they didn't, and the reason that jogger didn't notice anyone was because of the trees and bushes. Look at them."

Kate moved quickly on. "And the jogger called us in?" she asked.

"Yeah, and then we had a crowd. Many of them are women or girls who are cooing over him, he's quite sweet. If we don't find his family then we'll have to put him into care."

Kate stiffened. She had grown up in care herself after her parents had died in a car accident when she was a few years old, and it was an experience she would not wish on anyone, but it had worked out for her because her time in care had shaped her life, and now she was a cop. Becky and Tim noticed her reaction, but only Becky knew why her friend looked so stiff all of a sudden.

Pushing aside her feelings, Kate said, "Let's have a look at the kid."

Becky led her fellow cops over to the kid. The moment she saw the child, Kate's heart, hardened by the years she had spent learning how unkind and unloving the world could be, and all the time she had spent seeing the true face of people as a cop, almost broke as she caught sight of the red rimmed emerald green eyes underneath the black hair that the pale skin suited.

The baby boy had lost energy crying, and now he was sniffling in a heartbreaking way.

Pushing her feelings aside though she was aware of them, Kate knelt down. "Hey sweetie," she whispered, and she brushed the boys' black hair out of his eyes. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the scab on his forehead, the scab in the shape of a lightning bolt. "Ooh, nasty, don't worry," she whispered to the baby though she was curious about how he'd gotten that painful looking head injury, and several nasty possibilities came to mind, though she hoped it was none of them. "We'll take you to the hospital to get that cleaned out."

Kate picked up the boy and carried him over to the car. Suddenly giving into his exhaustion, the baby fell asleep. Kate would take the baby to hospital and from there there would be checks to see if there were reported missing children, but she had no idea that her hope the boy would find his family and be returned to them safely wouldn't come true. In time she would more or less push him out of her mind since her career made her busy.

But she had no idea that when the boy was old enough, he would be anything but innocent.

At least, if Kate ever found out what he became, he wouldn't become a sick rapist.

* * *

Authors note - Please read the other story, where Dumbledore DID manage to get Harry. Please tell me what you liked and disliked about my stories, and please make them as helpful as possible. No offence - I just do not like people leaving reviews that make it look like no one has read a single line.


	2. Chapter 2 Memories and Mudblood Slayer

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

Feedback will always be appreciated, thanks.

* * *

 **Memories and the Mudblood Slayer.**

Harry Potter was 6 years old when he 'remembered' his parent's. The spell had needed his brain to mature to the point where the information could finally let out, but small aspects of the spell did trickle out into his awareness. Unfortunately, by that time Harry had already known a few things from that point which had nothing to do with his past, or his heritage. He just knew that he'd been left/dumped/abandoned by…..someone in the park, and then he was in turn placed into care. Other mundane things came into his mind, such as knowing that he could easily do the schoolwork without a hassle, and thanks to that he was more advanced than other kids his age.

Harry knew the police were responsible for putting him into care, but while he felt nothing but contempt for the NYPD for how they sometimes harassed people who committed crimes simply because they were trying to make a decent living, he didn't hold what happened with the park get to him though and he didn't blame the police completely. Harry knew they had tried to find his birth family, but until the spell finally triggered and the knowledge of his parents entered his mind all he felt towards his family was bitterness because he believed they'd abandoned him, but he didn't know why.

Life in care was a nightmare for Harry before his memories released themselves from his mind. He wasn't like any of the other kids in the orphanage he'd lived in before he'd run away after finding a way to escape, and if he were honest with himself, he didn't want to be though he had tried in the past to get along with the other kids. The problem was Harry's brain smarts hadn't endeared him to the other kids, who had needed to go the slow path, so they were jealous. Another problem was strange things happened around him, things he simply couldn't explain. And it was because of those things, sometimes little things like a plate or a cup exploding into shards of china that people labelled him as a freak of nature. The kids shunned him, and the adults refused to help him, and Harry would catch sight of their looks of fear. A few of them had even consulted priests. But before that were two really nasty events that led to Harry running away from the orphanage.

By that time, he had little to no idea who he was since he had been found in New York Central Park, alone, with nothing but a blanket to keep him warm. The police had tried to find out who he was, but of course it was hard to track down two people whom had left very little behind, just a baby boy with messy black hair, pale skin and green eyes that were a sparkling shade of emerald. But before the boy even knew his name was Harry Potter, he knew his name to be something else.

With all those drawbacks, it was not a surprise for anyone involved with the case that the boy would find himself placed in a foster care. The orphanage staff took the boy in, not that they had much choice in the matter, so he was taken in. Since the boy had no identification he was given the name Vincent Taylor, which was better than the kind of default names available.

As a child Vincent was rather small and thin for a boy his age, but he did grow a few inches thanks to the food he ate. But the orphanage staff would regularly speak about him as he grew up.

"That Vincent, he's an odd kid."

"I've seen him in the streets, hanging around taller kids."

"Aren't they drug dealers?"

"He's not gonna become a criminal, is he?"

"Do you think he's the one who's been taking other kid's toys? I thought I saw the head of Lucy's teddy in his room."

* * *

Vincent, later Harry, was a kleptomaniac.

It was a blunt enough statement, but it was true. Lucy's teddy bear had been sneaked into the boy's room, but only for a couple of days; he treated it and other things he'd taken, like a trophy. He knew the entire orphanage would search for the damn bear, so he returned it after 3 days after that staff meeting where everyone was told by that member, a nosy and simpering little bitch (that was how the older kids had described her) called Amy, had seen its head.

The staff room was right next to another room, and that was the room where many of the kids spied and eavesdropped on the staff so then they'd know what was coming next. The walls were thin, so all that was needed was a glass but there was a ventilation grille built into the room. The place was used as a dusty storeroom. Vincent regularly used the room along with the other kids, but his reasons for using it was far more important.

Vincent had, within just a few years, become the pariah in the orphanage, but because he hadn't reached the age of 6, never mind 11 years old, he had no idea or understanding why that was. All he knew was he weird things happened around time a group of kids were bullying the younger students at school, and Vincent had unfortunately become a target since his height and build made him an attractive target. They bullied and teased him, and they chased him around the place and then later around the neighbourhood since the bullies had chosen a time when the morning bell rung. When school was out, Vincent somehow found himself chased around the neighbourhood…..and then the bullies found themselves chasing no one. Vincent had somehow found himself on top of a roof!

After that little mess, the gang had bullied Vincent because they had seen him disappear, so he was called a freak by everyone who believed the gang, but thankfully that wasn't a large number since the gang was a little thick. Unfortunately, other events would change that opinion, and Vincent's life would become a living nightmare, but there would be other events which would cause him more pain and grief.

One of those times was during class where a particularly unpleasant teacher was acting like a fucking bastard towards him simply because Vincent had aced a test which was pathetically easy (not his fault). Most teachers enjoyed teaching children who scored high on the tests, but they tended to lose track of how life for children was because they called the kids out on what they'd managed to achieve. But this teacher was the opposite. He didn't like smart children - god alone knew why - and like those teachers who naively called children out on what they'd managed to score without giving much thought at all to what would happen when their backs were turned, instead he spent most of the lesson when the scores were in and he'd read them out for everyone to hear bullying Vincent for being an insufferable know it all.

Remembering the incident in question was something that terrified Vincent because it had recently happened, so he had no idea what was going to come next out of it all.

He had ignored it all at first. He'd had these names thrown into his face before, and in his mind he couldn't help it if his mind allowed him to be more open when it came to learning than other kids. But then the teacher had called him an unwanted orphan because his parents had abandoned him. That was the lowest thing he could've said, and Vincent had begun to lose his temper, but before he could say anything…..a plastic bag had materialised around the teacher's head!

Suffocating, he'd collapsed to the ground trying and failing to remove the bag from his head, the whole class panicked and while the man had tormented Vincent about his parents who were unknown, the boy had managed to get a pair of scissors and had successfully cut the bag away from the man's head, leaving him gasping desperately for air.

Returning to the moment at hand, Vincent left the room quickly and went upstairs to his room.

Vincent had discovered he had the knack for sneaking about as silently as he could whenever he wished. It helped matters when some of the boys and girls in the school where he was being educated and taught things though his own knowledge helped him pass the tests, and the orphanage where he lived.

It was because of the point the finger, the freak is the one responsible attitude that Vincent had become sneak and a thief, but at the moment his skills were rather limited. It took him a few minutes to reach his room, find the bear and hide it in his clothes, and then sneak down the corridor to where Lucy's room was. A quick check and listening to the sounds within the room told him the girl and some of her friends were inside, talking, so Vincent just plopped the bear down outside the door.

What happened to it next, Vincent didn't know. Didn't care either. Walking back to his room, he saw several of the staff already by his door.

"Hello Vincent," Amy simpered, making everyone of her colleagues nearby roll their eyes. They had learnt the hard way that although he appeared to resemble a child, Vincent was anything but a child. "We just want to take a look inside your room, is that okay?"

"Suit yourself," Vincent shrugged and let them inside.

Vincent had a smug smirk on his face after the door had closed. He knew he had made a fatal mistake by leaving that teddy bear exposed like that, but the bear was gone. And he heard the cry from down the corridor. Lucy's voice, he identified easily. She'd clearly found the bear, but she had no idea where it had gone but was pleased it had been returned.

Vincent had never been given a teddy bear, something for comfort. Well he had, but the toy had been taken away by a much older kid, who was simply trying to make himself seem harder than the others by picking on the littlest kids in the orphanage. The real reason he'd taken the bear from Lucy was to punish her.

Lucy was one of his biggest tormentors in the orphanage, and so she wasn't his favourite person in the place. Then again, he didn't really have that many people he could call friend. He was a loner by nature, and he'd learnt the hard way that friendships were over rated The weird things that happened around him had been spreading like wildfire, convincing everyone new to avoid him and to stay clear from him.

Vincent had long since stopped being offended, but as he lay on the bed, he realized he couldn't stay in the orphanage. He would have to leave it sometime in the next few months or years. He knew the staff had become suspicious of the weird things around him, but they were also noticing his ties to the drug gang.

For some reason Vincent had an instinctive knowledge of what drugs were and what they did, and he chalked it down to the same knowledge he had of the lessons he had in school, how he had grasped the concepts of reading, writing, maths, and walking and talking. Vincent didn't bother telling the orphanage staff his reasons, his actual reasons for hanging around the gang. He didn't really care if they were causing pain to others since they were living their own lives, and if they wanted their lives to be empty and stoned to high heaven from an injection or a pill, so what?

It was a very apathetic and perhaps sociopathic view he had, but if people wanted to take drugs then it was their own decision. But Vincent was only hanging around them because he wanted to further his knowledge of burglary and theft.

True the gang weren't really good for that kind of crime, but most criminals knew how they could be flexible. The gang were a mix of different creeds and colours, and they acted incredibly tough but few of them fulfilled those stupid stereotypes that plagued the city. But they were still tough. They tolerated Vincent's presence, but the boy didn't really care if they wanted him around or not. He was learning what he could from them.

That was important.

From the gang he was learning how to break in and enter an apartment or a house, but that was straight forward enough to learn. But Vincent wanted to learn more. He knew the gang's knowledge was dealing and manufacturing drugs and stopping the cops from finding out. Vincent needed to learn more.

He wanted to learn how to break into banks, he needed to know how to crack open safes. What did he need to look for? Who did he trust, who should he use for connections. There were so many things he didn't know.

Vincent had long since known that even if he went to college, maybe even university - well, he already planned to do it, then he would still have problems fitting in with society. He simply could not connect with people, he had no friends here or at school, the teachers at school treated him as though he was a freak on one hand, while the others encouraged him to learn more despite the jealousy he received for being able to get the basic concepts.

* * *

The bear incident happened when Vincent was merely 5 years old.

In the months that passed since then and his next birthday (Vincent had an uncanny knowledge of when his birthday was, something he couldn't explain but chalked it down to all the things he did understand), he had started looking for pickpockets. The drug gang were good for some things, so finding someone to teach him the ropes of pickpocketing and open new doors for him wasn't hard. He found a young homeless girl who'd learnt how to pick people's pockets, and it took some time for him to persuade her to teach him how to do it.

The girl's name was Tia. She was an African American girl. She was quite dirty since she lived on the streets, but Vincent found himself enjoying his time with her.

At first the girl refused to have him around her since they were such contrasts; Tia was dressed in raggedy clothes, her hair was a messy mass, and her lack of healthcare made her appear almost skeletal.

In comparison, Vincent was clean and dressed in finer clothes, but they were only a step up from hers. He remembered how he had managed to….persuade her to teach him what it took to be a pickpocket and how to survive on the streets of a city like New York.

"Ya can go away now, kid," Tia snapped at him. "I ain't teaching ya."

"Why not? All I want to do is learn how to steal better than I can," Vincent argued. "I already know how to sneak about, but I need to learn how to become a better thief."

"I ain't teaching ya-" the girl said, but Vincent suddenly felt a spike in his temper, and he grabbed the girl by her arm and squeezed as tightly as he could. Ignoring Tia's sudden gasp of pain and surprise, he pressed his face closer to hers. "Listen to me, because I am not going to say this again. I am not asking you to help me, I am telling you to help me. I might be going to school but that's no guarantee that I won't end up on the streets at some point, and I've gotta be ready.

"Now, please, help me. You'll teach me how to become a thief, okay?" He asked, pushing the desire to learn at her, and to his surprise though he quickly covered it up she straightened up and said, "I'll help ya. Do ya mind letting me go now, hun?"

Covering his surprise for how easily she'd agreed, Vincent did as he was told. From that point on he followed Tia around the city, learning what to look for as a good lace to doss, where to look for food and water, what to do to find warmth though the last part was more difficult. The pickpocketing part was the best Tia could teach him, and she soon made it clear to him there were various techniques to be truly successful. Tia was good, but she was an amateur compared to some other burglars and pickpockets.

* * *

It didn't take much for him to persuade her to set up meetings with some of these experts. By that point Tia had already managed to teach her unexpected and unwanted student the basics of pickpocketing, and Vincent had rapidly learnt the ropes. But there were some things other criminals could teach him that a homeless girl like Tia couldn't know.

Unlike that girl, the other criminals were far easier to persuade to teach a boy like Vincent. They judged him by what he could do, not how he appeared like Tia. It didn't take long for them to realise he was a good student who was keen to soak up knowledge like a sponge. From them all he learnt the different techniques they had in breaking and entering, where to look for cash in a house or an apartment, and the safe crackers who Vincent called his teachers taught him the tricks needed to break into safes. Granted it would take Vincent a while to learn the finer points and details about this type of burglary, but it was a start. As the weeks wore on and his sixth birthday came and went, with him being the only one to celebrate it - Vincent had never really bothered to tell anyone at the orphanage when his birthday was, mostly because they would ask him why he was so sure July 31st was his birthday - and because he had worked hard to have some kind of anonymity over his life, no one but him knew those details - Vincent soaked up all the knowledge he could from the criminals and between that and his schoolwork he had a lot on his mind.

And then it happened.

* * *

Vincent had been feeling odd all day long. It had started with a dizzy, disorientated, pained feeling in his head that made him feel like someone had taken rubber mallets to his head and had repeatedly smacked him on the head over and over again. The fact it happened to him on a school day made it worse for Vincent.

At school he had to always watch is back because ever since that little mess with the teacher, everyone in the school from the Principal down to the lowliest student seemed to have it out for him, even if Vincent believed the idiot deserved a little dose of humility. The pain of the headache just grew worse and worse. He didn't bother telling anybody at the school because the teachers wouldn't believe him even if they had probably noticed him screwing his face up in agony at the sensation.

The pain in his head also made it very hard for him to concentrate on his surroundings, and he was attacked and punched repeatedly in the stomach, so feeling what seemed like something planting small bombs in his head and drilling into his skull simultaneously and being punched in the guts stopped him from really concentrating on fighting back, something Vincent never hesitated to do.

Understandably, he was thankful when school ended. The thought of just doing a bunk had occurred to him, but he had come into the school just as the feelings were coming on, so the school had a record of him coming in. Unlike other students Vincent knew when to bunk and when to just accept it.

But he didn't bother going home to the orphanage. He went to the nearest store and used the same technique as he'd used on Tia to allow him to buy a packet of aspirin and a bottle of water.

Vincent travelled to a block of apartments that were still under construction, so he knew the place was empty and he broke inside and went upstairs to the highest level. Gritting and grinding his teeth in agony at the sensations in his head, Vincent slid painfully to the ground. He tore off the bottle cap and ripped the packet open and downed a couple of pills.

He waited for a few minutes for the medicine to work, but he waited in vain. The pain simply wouldn't go away, and it seemed to go on for hours. Closing his eyes, Vincent downed most of the bottle in one single gulp, letting the water cool him down. It's just dehydration, he told himself even as he became sleepy.

And then it was like a dam was destroyed, and memories that weren't even his assaulted his mind. He saw someone, a boy who looked just like him except his nose was an inch longer and his eyes were hazel, learn he was a wizard. He saw a beautiful redheaded woman shout at a dumpy woman while they were standing over a man in dark robes.

Vincent knew who he was now, he had always known - the memories and the details were simply locked away in his brain. He saw his parents memories of them growing up and losing their friends over the years, all because of their accidental magic outbursts. He saw that even their families held at arms length. But it got worse when they had been told about Hogwarts. He saw how they had learnt about magic, and the same knowledge filled Vincent's mind, though he was at a disadvantage because he didn't have a wand to practice the spells his brain was absorbing at an increased rate. Now his mind was filling with his parent's collective memories, he felt as though he'd been at the school himself, but as the memories of the school grew with each year he saw the dark side of the school and of the magical world.

Vincent grimaced as he absorbed the memories of his parents, saw how disappointed they were how when they witnessed the teachers turn a blind eye to the rising tide of anti muggleborn propaganda and bullying, he saw how the muggleborns were persecuted to the point where they were forced to band together to form support groups. He became sick when he watched how his mother was hurt by someone she'd considered to be a friend, but had turned his back on her because he'd truly wanted power, so he'd joined a cause that focused on murdering the same people who had given birth to them.

Memories of them falling in love nearly made him break down and cry. He had always wanted to know what his parents were like, whether they were good people who had fallen in love or just an ordinary bunch of crackheads who dealt in drugs, prostitution, things like that. But seeing his parents fall in love was a balm on his heart.

More memories came to his mind. Vincent saw the war Lord Voldemort was waging growing more and more worse, he saw friends of his parents who disappeared, and how the rest feared for their safety and wondered if they had just returned to the muggle world where they thought it would protect them for a short while before they could make a plan that would help them. Vincent couldn't say he was unsurprised when he saw that both of his parents themselves considered leaving the magical world and return to the muggle world to save themselves, though they barely saw the war in the first few years though they did involve themselves in fights against the Death eaters.

The time they spent in other countries, raking up old tombs and giving Gringotts the proceeds and learning about old magic in those tombs gave Vincent's parents a phenomenal spell knowledge though all Curse Breakers learnt the same spells and were given the same training by the goblins. Vincent absorbed the same knowledge, and he closed his eyes at the feel of all those spells which would be a tremendous asset to his life for years to come.

Then he saw how his parents had been targeted by Voldemort after being pushed into the war by Albus Dumbledore. He witnessed the blatant bigotry of the Order of the Phoenix members who had never even spoken to a muggleborn only to be confronted with two, the Ministry of Magic's head in the sand routine as they made the mistake of thinking the war was a simple game of politics, the stupidity of Albus Dumbledore in how he brought in really useless people into the fight without putting much effort into looking for those who could be beneficial against the Dark Lord.

Like his parents before him, he simply didn't understand the logic behind Dumbledore bringing in people who were just completely useless, people whom the old wizard claimed he 'trusted' but didn't do anything productive. What was the point of having people who were friends in a war? You needed more than that, and while he knew he was seeing his parent's opinions he could see their points of view, which wasn't hard.

People like Molly Weasley, the fat red headed woman who he saw argue with his mother Lily were useless, and like his mother before him he'd felt nothing but contempt for her lack of proper understanding about the war when the fat bitch confronted those downed Death eaters. Did she really think they were naughty children wearing halloween clothes and taking it too far?

Then he saw the Diagon Alley attack where his mother, who was heavily pregnant at the time, was knowingly thrusted into a dangerous attack, one led by Voldemort himself. If that was not a coincidence Vincent had no idea. Well, judging from the feelings leaking into his mind about the aftermath and what was going through Lily and James's minds afterwards he knew it wasn't completely his thoughts on the matter.

He watched as one minute his parents were just walking through the alley, knowing from long and hard earned experience to watch themselves in the alley. The next minute Lily was getting into a shop, while James was busy fighting in the alley (he had been watching the memories through two pairs of eyes, and it was so complicated separating the two memories because he was seeing it from the perspectives of two people) and while his father was fighting he witnessed his mother perform scans on Voldemort, and determined the Dark Lord had made horcruxes. Lily's memories told him that she was unsure whether to laugh, weep, or just ask Voldemort face to face if he was really really really really stupid, and now he'd absorbed her memories and experiences, he could see where his mother was coming from.

The word horcrux made him shut his eyes as new knowledge filled his mind. He saw his parents and other Curse Breakers learn about the soul fragments and how they were made, their general history, and how they really worked despite the lies most idiots thought and believed. He saw his parents find them in virtually every country; yeah, sure, some of the soul fragments found by the Curse Breakers in other countries differed from others in how they were made, how the soul was prepared for the splitting, but it was the principle of the thing.

Now that Vincent had gained an insight and a view into his parent's memories and minds, he wasn't surprised when his father allowed his mother to ignore the magical hospital and just go to a muggle hospital, though with how the Death eater's poison had spread to so many people in magical society, it was just good sense.

He almost cried again when his parents showed so much care about him, and he hadn't even been born yet. Here were two wonderful people who had died protecting him, and all the magical world had done was take them from him.

The memories dragged on and time seemed to slow down to a stop while it seemed to wait for Vincent to absorb them all and make sense of his parent's lives. He watched with the same exasperation and contempt as his father as the Order meeting following the attack drag on and seem to focus on his mother than the issue. But he also saw his mother contemplate what the horcruxes could mean. No one had ever made more than one of the soul pieces for a good reason and yet Voldemort hadn't bothered studying that reasoning.

Like Lily and James, Vincent was furious when he learnt of the prophecy. That was what all this was about. That fucking poem was the reason his parents were dead, why he had been orphaned, why he had experienced a taste of anti magical prejudice without the muggles even being aware of it. But what angered Vincent the most was how the old fool hadn't bothered to tell his father the wording of the prophecy, just dropping enough information to give his parents enough to worry about. He was sickened by the husband of his mother's friend - what was so wonderful about a child being threatened by a Dark Lord, only to go on and deal with that Dark Lord later? A child…

Was this common in magical society, a rite of passage?

Sick.

If it was then Vincent wanted nothing to do with the magical world, in any country.

He saw how his parents had peeled back the information they'd learnt but had only enough to make guesses and basic plans. Once he'd watched as his parents made those plans, one of which was to make sure he never attended Hogwarts or even have Magical British citizenship he wasn't surprised when he realised that without that Dumbledore would have a hard time getting him into Hogwarts if he chose a different school. Then he realised the truth of the matter.

His parents had sent him to America.

They had known if he'd stayed then Dumbledore would've had him sent to the Dursleys, to a life of abuse. Vincent snorted mentally at that, since he'd been put into care, and no one had wanted him though truthfully after a while he'd gotten the message no one was coming.

He had hated his parents for dumping him, but now he knew the truth he couldn't hold it against them any longer. But he could blame Dumbledore, Voldemort, the bastard who'd made the prophecy in the first place, and Pettigrew.

If he ever got hold of any of them….

He tried to break free of the hold the memories had on his mind but he couldn't. He watched as he had been born, and he nearly cried again when he witnessed his mum and dad take him around the country while avoiding the Death eaters, Voldemort, and Dumbledore and his Order, but unlike his baby self Harry realised that his parents were simply spending time with him to pass on good memories to him. The thought made him cry as he saw the bittersweet smiles his parents sent each other whenever his younger self laughed in delight.

And then he saw the recommendations for guardianship. Did Dumbledore really think that the Dursleys would be a good family for him, or was he that desperate to gain some control over him? After seeing the way Petunia treated his mother, the rude remarks, and the barely hidden sneers of jealousy the only thing Harry felt for the woman was pity and contempt, pity because she honestly believed that she couldn't do anything without her sister being better, and contempt because the woman wouldn't even try to find a talent, a hobby, anything that didn't interest his mother. But when he saw his parents memories of Vernon Dursley, he had half a mind to find the fat bastard and rip the filthy minded son of a bitch's tongue out. He had never brutally murdered anybody before, but something about the fat pig his mother's sister called her husband had that general kill me demand in his personality. His grating arrogance didn't do him any favours either.

The memories rushed past - and Vincent felt sorry for his mother's failing friendship with Alice Longbottom - until the final hour of both of his parent's lives.

Then he saw the pain his mother went through just to give birth to him, and he almost cried when he discovered his real name.

Harry, he was called Harry James Potter.

At first he had asked himself why his parents had been so suicidal enough to remain in the same house as a thing that wanted to murder them, and then he saw his mother realise that a blood ward was keeping them imprisoned and that it was Voldemort's own blood powering it. But the Dark Lord denied it and scanned himself, giving his mother time to finish the ritual before the killing curse hit her.

Vincent then heard a voice coming from his mother, and he knew that she'd recorded a message in his mind to be opened on the day or night their memories were unlocked in his head.

 _ **"My sweet Harry. I never wanted to do this, and while I hated myself for even thinking about it, I know that Alice Longbottom wanted the same thing; I don't think I need to tell you what I mean. We could see it in each others eyes, we both wanted the other to suffer. But I had to record memories belonging to me and James into your head - I'm sorry about the possible pain, but I hope it wasn't that bad. The effects vary from person to person, so I hope that you just received them in a dream or something, but if not then I'm so sorry, sweetie.**_

 _ **"Harry, the memories have shown you how to deal with Voldemort. They're probably more effective than the crappy methods of Albus Dumbledore; the man might be a genius and Merlin reincarnated in the magical world's eyes. I don't know what to tell you since you already know what was in my head at the time, but you do understand why I didn't want you anywhere near Dumbledore or Hogwarts.**_

 _ **"I never wanted this for you. Neither did your father. We wanted more children, kids to play with and teach magic to so then they wouldn't have to deal with the same shit we have had to deal with. Sorry for the language, but hopefully you'll get the gist. You don't deserve to be hunted down all because a bunch of fools**_ believe _ **something that doesn't even make sense, but what you really do not deserve was to be used by an old fool who will only see you as a weapon to use once. I'm not sure what he plans for you, but I know one thing - you probably won't survive if you rely on him. Dumbledore has been running this war with Voldemort very badly. Instead of simply bringing in people like healers,**_ unspeakables _ **, Aurors, criminals, Curse Breakers, specialists in Runes, charms, potions,**_ etc _ **he has simply brought in people who don't contribute anything, and every time we have a conflict with the Death eaters it doesn't go well. I don't know the wording of the prophecy, or the logic behind Dumbledore's thought**_ processes but _ **you need to be careful, Harry. Your dad and I couldn't perform the ritual, we didn't have time though it would've helped if we had a soul piece.**_

 _ **"You have a better advantage of finding the**_ horcruxes _ **than we ever did, and I hate to ask this of you, but you need to wipe him out. Hopefully before you go to a magical school so then Dumbledore will not feel a need to find you, or will be busy with other matters. The effect of the ritual will be noticeable to those who are old enough or experienced enough, and Dumbledore is experienced. Hopefully when**_ its done he _ **'ll leave you alone, but I'm not sure.**_

 _ **"Please do something for me. Live. Just live your life the way you want, but don't become a murderer like Voldemort. I love you Harry. I want you to grow up, get married, have lots of kids. Have the opportunities your dad and I never did. We wanted more children before the threat of the prophecy dropped on our heads like a cartoon anvil.**_

 _ **"Voldemort is going to kill me now, but please live for all of us.**_

 _ **"I love you, Lily Potter."**_

Vincent, or Harry's head dropped into his knees as the weight of his newly found knowledge about his family and what had happened to them along with everything else sank into his mind, and he let his mother's last thoughts and the letter she'd mentally composed while Voldemort scanned himself enter his mind. He snorted as he mentally thought of Voldemort believing that his mother would bother telling him about the blood ward and who'd set it up in the first place. Like his mother he too had a good idea, though he was unsure if it was solely his opinion or that of his mother's.

Harry sighed and rested his head against the wall, absorbing the memories he'd just assimilated. He needed a minute to realise someone was nearby. But when he did he was surprised to be looking down the length of a wand. But it was the clothes of the man holding it. They were shabby, a cross between the robes of a wizard and the clothes of a Christian priest, but there were red burn marks scorched into those robes, like tallies.

Harry was too disoriented to do anything as the wizard levelled the wand at his head. "Another mudblood," the wizard whispered, looking down at him with contempt. "How many of your filthy kind are there in the world?"

Harry didn't think the question was meant to be answered, and he was right. All he knew was his life was in danger with this man standing over him, and from his attitude Harry doubted sincerely he was going to help him. Unseen Harry let his right hand travel to the pocket his flick-knife was tucked away.

The wizard didn't even notice. He was so absorbed in one of those typical rants that many supremacists loved to spout off. "After I've killed you, I'd have further cleansed magic from your disgusting kind-" he levelled the wand to point directly between Harry's eyes. "Just think mudblood, with you down there'll be one less of you-"

The pain the release of the memories pouring out into his mind wasn't even abating, and Harry didn't dare shake his head so he could make sense of this. But he had enough awareness to snicker. "You pureblood supremacists," he got out, looking up at the wizard with contempt, "you are all the same. Even overseas you're the same, you have the same belief that 'cause we were born outside your fucked up world, we're filth. Why can't you find some proper material and not sound like one of those stupid Saturday morning cartoons?"

The wizard was too stunned to say a word, giving Harry time to stand up while he let his hand travel to his flick knife. He knew the chances of fighting back were slim if he got this wrong - he was just a 6 year old kid facing an adult wizard who was armed with a wand, and the only weapon he had was a flick blade.

The wizard suddenly went mad. He levelled his wand at the boy, breathing heavily like an angry bull who'd just seen a red flag waving mockingly in the distance.

Harry pushed the pain away, using the basics of occlumency he'd learned from his parent's knowledge to cover it up. Picking up a piece of brick in one hand and holding his knife, he readied himself and threw himself at the wizard. He smashed the brick into the wizard's face, breaking his nose. The wizard pressed his only free hand to his face, covering everything barring one of his eyes in an effort to dull the pain. Harry ignored the man's bubbling splutter of agony, and he slashed the knife down on the wrist holding the man's wand.

The wizard cried out harder through his hand, but Harry scooped up the wand before it dropped to the floor.

Stepping back Harry levelled the wand at the wizard's face. "Stop moaning, there are muggle kids who are way braver than you are, and they suffer injuries and problems sleeping rough," he snapped, poking the wand into the man's eye. The wizard had managed to recover enough of his self control to glare at him in hatred, shock, pain and fear at the sudden attack.

Harry glared back. "Crucio!" he muttered.

The wand wasn't a perfect fit for Harry. But it made no difference to the boy, as long as the man realised he wasn't an average 'mudblood' he'd burn the message into the fools mind before he died.

The wizard screamed and twisted under the pain as the boy held the curse on him, his mind struggling to think as he was held under the cruciatus curse. How could this boy even know this curse?

Finally Harry lifted the curse, feeling satisfaction at managing to cast something as dangerous as the cruciatus curse and managing to hold it on a fully grown wizard, but he knew he would have to work fast. He didn't know what the Aurors were like in America, but it wouldn't take long for them to find out a kid had managed to do this.

He examined the wand carefully; wand lore wasn't part of his parent's repertoire, but they had learnt a lot about the magical science to know when their wands were badly damaged and needed replacing.

The wand was starting to smell like burnt wand after just one use of it and whatever the core was made up thanks to his magical power. Harry found it laughable this thug had a wand that wasn't really meant for someone more powerful. It wouldn't last much longer, but it would last for a short time. The wizard was still twisting on the ground from the aftereffects of the curse.

"How could you know that spell?" the wizard spat out, gasping like an old blacksmith's bellows as he struggled to get the words out. "Who are you?"

Harry hesitated, momentarily startled by the question. "My name is Harry Potter."

The wizard gasped.

Harry Potter?

Everyone around the world, in the magical world at least, knew about the filthy mud blood child who'd defeated Lord Voldemort, one of the greatest Dark Lords of all time, and probably one of the most devoted fighters for the freedom of the pureblood wizard anywhere in the world. Potter was an icon to the mud bloods worldwide because he had defeated the Dark Lord, a wizard the Mudblood slayers would've joined forces with at a moments notice, but he was hated by everyone who saw mud bloods as the freaks they were.

But what was he doing here, in America? Everybody knew the boy had disappeared after that infamous night, but how did he get here.

The wizard was taken out of his musings when the boy in question spoke the dreaded curse, "Avada Kedavra!"

Unable to move after the beating he'd received and the loss of blood which had been making him lightheaded for the past few minutes, the wizard was completely helpless when the bright green light flashed towards him.

* * *

Harry sighed as he gazed down on the dead wizard, feeling sick despite the killing as being self defence. It was one thing being prophesied to kill another wizard even if that wizard was a piece of scum willing to destroy life because he felt justified and superior because he was the one doing it, but it didn't make it easier for him to kill.

The wizard was dead, but it had taken a lot of power shoved into the wand core to end his life. Speaking of the wand, Harry checked the wand. It's outer surface was smouldering, and he knew it wouldn't last much longer and he had a few other things to do yet before he got rid of the bloody thing.

The wizard was lying in small puddle of his own blood, and then there was his body to vanish. Harry sighed and flicked his wand, vanishing the body and hoping the wand wouldn't fall apart with the extra work.

Sighing in frustration when the wand began smoking after it managed to do the job and leave the scene completely free of blood and the body had been vanished, Harry picked up his stuff idly checking the time. He was late for dinner, but it didn't matter. If he could just sneak in, he could find something to eat.

Harry realised he still had the wand in his hand, but he pushed that out of his mind until he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The image of a short black haired boy with emerald green eyes stared back at him, but now he knew he was no longer called Vincent but Harry Potter. He felt delight and pleasure that he finally knew who he was after so long wondering who he was.

But something else caught his attention.

His lightning bolt shaped scar.

As Vincent, the scar was a part of who he was, and any attempt to find out what it was had always failed because the scar had been cut on his forehead when the cops had found him in Central Park. But as Harry, with his newly restored memories, he was suspicious since he knew the scar wasn't your average cut. He knew it was a result of that attack Voldemort had carried out personally on his parents. Putting the wand into his other hand, he held the tip close to the scar before he cast the scanning spell.

* * *

Harry stormed down the streets, furious and feeling filthy after what he'd just learnt. He'd known that Voldemort was scum, but he hadn't expected that even if he knew it wasn't intentional.

His scar was a horcrux. Harry felt physically sick knowing that a piece of the man who had destroyed his life, killed his parents and deprived him of any real family had found itself in his scar. Lily Potter had discovered Voldemort's little secret, but unlike the idiots of Magical Britain, she and her husband had known it wasn't the end of the world since there was a fairly painless solution to end the problem. There was nothing he could do without a wand, not that it would've worked anyway since there weren't many spells that could simply remove the foreign soul pieces, just rituals that could destroy a horcrux, and the ingredients for those were only found in the magical world.

Dumbledore….

His solution would involve believing those stupid books on the Dark Arts which would simply tell him that separating the two souls was impossible, and that for the horcrux to be destroyed then the host had to die as well.

The thought of being set up by that meddling old bastard made Harry want to track down every piece of scum in this city and rip them apart with his bare hands, that was how angry he was.

It wasn't technically Dumbledore's fault of course - Magical Britain's abject refusal to study or even prepare its future generations had its price. It was just such a shame that a country with such a rich heritage was in denial and had so many stupid prejudices made it impossible for them to accept that the Dark Arts were there, and not knowing about them or their basic properties resulted in more harm than good. Magical India studied Dark Magic and its basics, and they suffered only a few dark wizards every generation, and not to the same extent as Voldemort.

Harry took a deep breath to relax and to calm himself down. Being angry was not going to help him. It took him only a few minutes to clear his mind and focus on the results of the scan. His parent's knowledge of horcruxes and the magic needed to get rid of them had helped him find out about the scar, but it wasn't much good now was it?

His parents had known about the horcruxes months before their deaths, but they couldn't do anything about it since the ritual needed to destroy them and Lord Voldemort needed a horcrux to work with, and without any clues to the truth of who Voldemort was, who he'd been since before he'd become the Dark Lord of Britain they couldn't do anything.

Harry had cast the scanning spell twice to be certain before it became too much for his stolen wand, but it was true. He had a horcrux in his head, but there wasn't anything he could do about it at the moment. After the stolen wand had been burnt out, he'd snapped it and dumped it into a bin. He didn't know for sure if the American wizards weren't already on their way to find the caster of the spells that included two of the Unforgivable curses and a few scanning spells. And if they found the wand, he didn't know and didn't care.

As he walked down the street, Harry's mind raced as he thought about the mess he was now in. He now knew who he was in reality. No one could now call him an unwanted bastard, and if anyone made the mistake of saying something like that to his face, then they would receive a slashed face. He would have to wait a few more years until he could deal with the horcrux in his head, but he knew he could do it and preferably not travel to the United Kingdom to kill Voldemort.

In fact, Harry reflected darkly, he would rather not have to face Voldemort head on at all even though he had the knowledge to easily meet the thing and kill him. But he would need to prepare the ritual, using the horcrux in his skull to work with it and then deal with Voldemort from there.

He paused as he realised he had the weapon his parents had simply not possessed.

He had access to a Voldemort horcrux. But the damn thing was in his mind, doing god knew what to his magic and his mind. He'd been planning to cast a few more spells on the horcrux to get some idea of what it was doing, but the wand had burnt itself out.

Harry was surprised to find himself outside the orphanage doors even though it was the place he had been forced to call home for the last 5 years. But now he knew the truth about who he was, what he was, and what had happened to him, Harry found the place mundane and worthless.

Closing his eyes Harry concentrated on the notice me not spell and wandlessly cast it - this was difficult magic, but thanks to his new found awareness of his magic and his heritage casting the spell was relatively easy even without a wand. His parents had learnt a little wandless magic during their time abroad, and there were dozens of sources and Harry knew where all of them were since he had their memories of working with them.

Making a mental note to continue practicing his magic in this fashion, Harry opened the door quietly and slipped inside, concentrating on the notice me not spell.

* * *

Author's note - So now Harry knows who he is, what he is, and he's already killed a fully fledged wizard in self defence.


	3. Chapter 3 Back to Britain

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

Feedback would be highly appreciated.

Back to Britain.

Thirteen, nearly fourteen year old Harry Potter could honestly say he hated muggle air travel. Sure, it might be the holiday period and he might have managed to compel the orphanage staff to just simply forget him for the time being while he took care of business in the United Kingdom, but it didn't make it any less depressing that he would need to leave the country for this. It had taken years of practice for Harry to make sure the spells he cast on other people worked to the point where he was sure the spells would last. He planned to be gone for a week, but he knew it might be longer, he wasn't sure.

The lift off and the general speed he could take, but he absolutely hated and despised the waiting time and the general feeling of chaos you received when you waited for a plane. There was such a weird collection of feelings and emotions in an airport - exhaustion for people who had been waiting for hours and hours, frustration for the people who hated and raved against the continuous delays, and excitement for just being able to travel. Harry had lost count of the number of times he'd had to fight down the urge to smile at the little kids excited just to be going out of the country.

But Harry didn't feel any of those things. He had been worried for quite a long time now, because ever since he'd turned 11 years old, he had not received a single letter from any magical school. At first he'd thought it might be out of confusion, that the American schools taught their children at a certain age, but it had been nearly 4 years and Harry was growing worried because he'd thought the people on the other side were confused between calling him Harry or Vincent. His parents memories and their knowledge of how magical schools selected their students varied - for muggleborns, the details were listed down in two books, one in the school in question and one in that country's ministry or magical government, and when it was time for the letter to be sent out it was sent out.

But nothing had happened. Harry then expected the wizards to send at least one person to track him down, and he'd been prepared for that eventuality since he knew there was a magical community in America. The United States was too large to not have one, and besides he'd already had contact with that world even if it hadn't left a good impression on him. He'd also expected some kind of consequence, or a penalty for the way he'd had to kill that wizard who'd tried to kill him that night, but no one had come. Nothing had happened. No Aurors, no letters, nothing. It was like the magical world here didn't exist.

No. Harry was beginning to fear the magical world in America didn't allow muggleborns into their schools and now that the letter was three years overdue was now certain of it, not that it would surprise him since magical communities around the world either had quotas for the number of muggleborns selected to attend their schools while others didn't allow them full stop. The only problem was while his parents had learnt a great deal, they hadn't come to magical America.

He had truly hoped he wouldn't need to travel to his original home country unless necessary since it put him dangerously close to the line of fire, but he needed to get access to a number of things; he needed a wand, a cauldron, the ingredients for the ritual and a silver locket to house Voldemort's soul before he destroyed it.

Harry sighed as he absently rubbed his scar. The horcrux inside was playing up, it was throbbing and burning and it was getting increasingly worse. It had flared a few times over the last few years, but now it was becoming unbearable. Every day it was getting harder and harder to push the pain aside.

The horcrux had to be removed. So, he had managed to get some of his friends in the underworld (business associates) to forge a passport, and he'd spun a story claiming he had been sent to Britain, but truthfully that was only for when the compulsion charms and the notice me not spells couldn't work.

Knowing what a long trip it would be between New York and London, Harry had bought a new book and spent most of his time either reading or sleeping during the flight. After being crammed into the seat and the limited space for hours, Harry felt terrible when he got out.

* * *

After getting out at Gatwick airport, he paid for a train ticket to take him into London, and using his mother's memories headed to the flat his parents had bought and paid for years ago just after they'd gotten married. He had no intention of booking into a hotel even if it meant getting hold of room service, but truthfully he didn't want anyone snooping around him.

After getting into the flat and dropping his luggage off, Harry went out again to a small supermarket and bought some essentials like toilet and kitchen paper, enough to last for the duration of his holiday, if it could be called that. He also bought some fresh food and bottles of water, and some milk, cereal, eggs, bread, and some meat for his stay.

Harry looked around admiringly at the flat. It's decorations may have been simplistic and old fashioned in places, but he genuinely didn't mind it. In fact, he was thinking he might enjoy moving here and getting away from New York even if the Big Apple was the place he had grown up in, but it was still a nice flat. There were 3 bedrooms, one of them held a double bed and the duvet was still preserved and clean even after a decade of not having anybody snuggled underneath. One of the bedrooms, however made Harry apprehensive. It held a single cot and a changing table within it.

 _This is the room that was supposed to be mine_ , Harry thought to himself, his mind falling into a churning whirlpool of emotions. It didn't take long for anger to surge through him, and the urge to find whoever had given Dumbledore that prophecy in the first place sprang to mind, followed closely by desire to find Dumbledore, and snap his neck for playing god with a family to deal with a psychopath because he was too lazy.

But just as quickly his anger disappeared, and numbly he checked out the bathroom and the kitchen, deciding to push Dumbledore out of his mind for now. He had no intention of running into the wizard, and if he had his way everything would go the way he wanted, and he would soon be back in America. The flat's kitchen equipment may have been a little outdated, but Harry had been spoilt by American technology over the years. Still the place was nice enough.

The flat had a number of protective spells that his parents had used to protect the property, and keep the place from being broken into by muggles and by other wizards. The flat may not have been lived in for years since his parents were murdered, but it had been bought and paid for. Other than that, the place was deserted, and there were preservation charms on the place to ensure there were only a few grains of dust covering the surface.

After cleaning the flat as best he could despite the jet lag he was feeling, Harry made his bed and slid under the covers. When he woke up again, Harry got dressed and began getting ready to head for Diagon Alley.

* * *

Getting into the Alley was relatively simple. All he had needed to do was dress in a black jacket with a hood and hide his scar, and most of his other distinguishing features to avoid being noticed though in the early morning it was easier than someone would have expected, and he'd waited for someone to open the gateway separating the Leaky Cauldron with the alley. After that he headed straight for Gringotts.

He wasn't sure what he planned to do with the goblins, but he planned to open his parent's vault. Lily and James had set up a joint account and used the money the goblins paid them for their efforts to create a nice little nest egg. The bank was mostly empty by the time Harry got in, and there were dozens of goblins already on duty. Thankful the goblins didn't believe in opening or closing times, he headed over to a free goblin.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said in the goblin's language. "I would like for my heritage to be checked before I see the statements of my parent's vault."

The goblin was surprised by the request; most wizard thieves didn't bother speaking in gobbledegook, considering it to be beneath their interest, and many of them would never ask for a heritage test. The heritage test was something that couldn't be forged, and many wizards had tried to flout it, with nasty consequences.

Reaching into a drawer in his desk, the goblin removed the heritage tester. It was a small red box the size of a matchbox, and the goblin flipped open a cover revealing a small ruby red circle. "Please press your finger on the reader," the goblin instructed.

Harry did. He knew that a small droplet of his blood had just been extracted by the reader, and knew that a result would come in a minute. The goblins were always keeping a few moves ahead and behind the magical thieves who believed they could play games with the goblins. The goblins weren't stupid, and they always thought a few moves ahead of wizards to stop them from trying to get down to the vaults.

Harry knew he had surprised the goblin by suggesting using the reader, but he knew it was the best way for them to accept who he was. The goblin inspected the results and looked up into his face. "Well, Mr Potter, may I say welcome back?"

Harry lifted a brow and smirked at the goblin's rather sardonic statement. "Thank you. I have lived in America most of my life, but a letter for a school didn't come to me.'

"Ah, that would be because of the Rappaport law," the goblin replied with a knowing look. "A young witch in America met a muggle who was the descendent of the Scourers, they were a small hate group who used the lack of magical law enforcement when the MACUSA was still in its infancy to get rich, and they caused a lot of death because they made money by accusing others of being witches and wizards, and in those days the muggles were still hunting wizards."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. It never failed to amaze him how easy it was for both sides of the human race to begin slaughtering one another because of hatred.

The goblin saw the reaction and went on. "The young man was a descendent, like I said, but the scourers had married into muggle bloodlines, and spread fear and hatred of magic into their minds. The young witch didn't realise this until it was too late, and she gave him too much knowledge of the magical world, including the location of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The breach of the statute of secrecy was a nightmare for the MACUSA, it was made worse because the man had photographs of the woman using her wand."

"Oh my god," Harry gasped in shock at the implications of the breach. "How on Earth did she let that happen? Surely a witch would have more sense?"

"I don't know. All I know is the MACUSA struggled to cope with the breach, and they attempted to modify the memories of all muggles who'd been exposed to the leaked information, but the President, Emily Rappaport testified at a public inquiry there was no way to be sure if they'd obliviated everyone."

Harry shook his head again, this time in amazement. He was stunned by the scale of the damage that idiot witch had caused. There were many wizards who hated and feared what muggles could do, while others believed muggles weren't a threat, but while a person was smart and probably _could_ be persuaded magic was something that could be used for both good and evil, people were dumb animals who went with the status quo. "What does this law mean?" he asked, making a mental note to find out if there were any books about magical America. The more he knew, the better.

"The law banned witches and wizards from marrying or befriending muggles," the goblin replied, "it led to the segregation of the two worlds."

"Does this law also prevent muggleborns from joining?" Harry asked.

The question was both rhetorical and yet it wasn't at the same time. "Yes, it does. May I ask you, Mr Potter, how did you find yourself in America?"

Harry didn't see any harm in answering the question, but he looked around to make sure there was no one nearby who was listening in. "My parents sent me there during the attack," he answered, "they knew they were doomed, and they knew Dumbledore would meddle and interfere in my affairs since as a baby I couldn't do anything."

The goblin nodded and summoned another goblin, who took him to the vault in question.

* * *

Harry left the bank half an hour later. He hadn't told the goblins anything about the horcruxes, or the ritual in his parents' memories though he told them about how he knew so much since he knew so much, since he wanted to do it for himself. His parents may have trusted the goblins up to a point, but he didn't need to. All he needed from them were names and addresses of shops and people where he could buy the supplies he needed.

After a search through Knockturn Alley, Harry bought a number of supplies, but he needed a wand. Contrary to popular belief, Ollivanders was not the only wandmaker and seller in the area, there were two others and they were in different alleys. Harry headed for one of them. The shop was called High Quality Wands and it was run by muggleborns in the nearby Muggleborn shopping district.

Harry walked in and went out again after nearly an hour, his hand clasped around his new and first wand. The muggleborns had really chosen quality with their wands, and it showed. The strange thing about the wands sold in that shop was that the Ministry, for some strange reason, didn't bother with ordering them to place the Trace on the wands. It was 12 inches long, made from Yew, and the core was a combination of a unicorn hair and a phoenix tail feather. Harry spent the rest of the morning searching for the numerous supplies he would need for the ritual. It took quite a bit of money from his pocket, but it was worth it in the end. All he would need now was the silver amulet and he would be ready.

* * *

Harry held up the silver amulet. Getting hold of it in a muggle shop was relatively simple since the goblins did control the sale of silver. After that he immersed himself in his parents memories and began brewing the potion. When the potion was finally finished and it was the right colour - Harry really hated the MACUSA and their decision to support that law; he could understand their reasoning and even felt it was a good idea, but it would cause far too many problems in the long run than it would solve. It was just annoying that he couldn't have developed his potions skills out of the secondhand knowledge he had. His mother's potions knowledge had given him an edge in making this potion, but he had been worried the horcrux in his head would've wised up to what he was doing, and try to stop him.

Luckily it didn't, but that didn't mean he couldn't exercise his occlumency skills that kept the horcrux out of his mind. It had gained a foothold in the past, and it had been a fight and a half to stop it getting another one after using the occlumency knowledge his parents had possessed from getting back in.

After completing the potion and preparing the amulet, Harry chanted the incantation to extract the horcruxes, pushing his magic into the amulet to power the ritual. The magic of the incantation slowly but surely began boiling the potion, and the amulet began to glow with magical power as the soul pieces. Harry almost cried out in pain as the soul piece was ripped out of his scar, and he almost collapsed but he had to go on. He continued chanting, and dimly he was aware of other soul pieces, screaming threats and promises of pain but the power of the ritual stopped them doing anything about it.

Harry was surprised when really large soul pieces screaming and pleading for mercy, sounding completely different from the voice of Voldemort, who possessed a high and cold voice, and varying between men and women.

My god, he thought, I'm killing the Death eaters.

Harry lost count of the number of souls that flowed out and into the amulet, but his mind raced as he continued chanting the incantation for the ritual; this might be the best hope ever of destroying the Death eater movement, of ending the possibility one of them would become too big headed and cause more pain and misery, but he was getting tired. He had pushed more and more magic into the ritual, and knew he would be exhausted by the end of it, and he was thankful this was going on in the living room. He could collapse on the couch when it was over.

Finally, there were no more souls, and Harry stopped chanting and staggered away from the cauldron, using his remaining magic to get himself over to the couch and then collapsed. He was asleep the next minute.

When Harry woke up, he had a splitting headache and he felt exhausted. It took a minute for him to properly wake up and for the memories of the last 24 hours to return, when they did he groaned. His body felt like it was weighted down with a ton of bricks, topped by three blocks of concrete, and he tried to get up but he couldn't. He decided to just lie there and wait for his strength to return, but while his body felt terrible his mind was racing.

He had just sucked all the horcruxes out of whatever unfortunate objects that had housed them for god knows how long, but the only horcrux that had concerned him had been the one lodged in his forehead.

It had gone. All of the horcruxes had gone, so that meant he only had to destroy the amulet with a killing curse and Voldemort's threat would be finished forever. While he was resting, Harry mused to himself what kind of plan Dumbledore would've had in mind for the end of Voldemort. His parents had known from the off that horcruxes were easy to destroy with the right knowledge, whereas authors who believed the crap preached by authors who wrote books like The Darkest Arts.

Those guys hadn't done any research and so decided to simply say the brute and elephant in a china shop approach would end the problem, but while it was effective it was so crude compared to the ritual Harry had used.

Dumbledore had probably decided that approach was the only one. Harry shuddered at the thought of having to travel god knows how far and to where just to find the horcruxes, destroying them one at a time. Who knew the kind of defences Voldemort had opted to use on many of them? Some of the horcruxes could've been placed in Gringotts, but it was academic now since Voldemort was dead. The only thing Harry hadn't expected or even anticipated was that the Death eaters themselves would be included, and Harry guessed Voldemort had realised the horcrux idea, while good, wasn't good enough in the long term, so he'd decided another way was needed. The Dark Mark was the second key to Voldemort's immortality. Each mark was a connection to the magical core of another witch or wizard, and they were linked to Voldemort. They were like blood transfusions passing blood into the body of a patient who needed it, only in Voldemort's case the transfusion was magical power. The more followers the Dark Bastard linked to him, the greater the chance of having virtual immortality. But Harry hadn't been expecting the number of horcruxes that came flying towards the amulet. The idiot had 7 soul pieces. He had traded sanity for immortality.

Harry sighed and shrugged as best he could, even while his shoulders felt leaden and heavy. It didn't matter anymore. Voldemort and his followers were gone.

While he lay still, Harry managed with a little difficulty to prop his head up and look down at his feet. He'd been barefooted during the ritual, seeing no point in wearing shoes or socks. "Wriggle your big toe," he whispered as he tried to move his toes to cut through the leaden feeling he was getting all over himself.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the newspaper in front of him, a frown marring his features. There had been a massive spate of deaths in the last 12 hours, but all of them had a few things in common. They were all pureblood followers of Voldemort, and they were all marked by the Dark Mark. Albus had scanned the article several times, learning that many of the Death eaters had been either at home or at dinner parties hosted by foolish idiots who saw them as personal friends and believed in the stupid lie about the Imperious Curse. That was one of the problems with not having a competent professor in charge of the DADA position. So many things were simply not taught that students needed to know. Albus had learnt many things during his own time at school, and one of them was that people under the Imperious Curse would need to have it reapplied again and again because, depending on who the caster was in the first place, the mind would always fight back.

The Headmaster sneered in disgust at the Death eaters using such a pathetic and easily refutable excuse. He had known from the off just how stupid the Death eaters were, how often they had discounted their studies at Hogwarts in favour of causing problems. Rodulphus Lestrange was one such example; Dumbledore had wanted to kick that arrogant piece of scum out of school but the boy's father caused problems.

But the kicker was so many had believed those stupid lies about the Imperious Curse. Well, except for certain members of the DMLE. As much as he hated to say it, Dumbledore was pleased the likes of Malfoy, Nott, and other members of the Death eater ranks weren't around to bribe Cornelius Fudge anymore.

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes as he thought about the Minister. He'd been around for a very long time, and his experience in politics and in the arena had allowed him to meet many Ministers of Magic in Britain and in other countries. Many of them were so corrupt it was hard to tell if they could see a bright light, while others were smarter. Unfortunately Fudge fell into the first category, but he was also incredibly stupid and needed advice about every matter possible. The big problem was Fudge listened to the wrong people, but Malfoy and Umbridge were both gone - Umbridge wasn't a surprise, he hadn't thought the woman had enough imagination to become a Death eater. But now Malfoy and Umbridge were both dead, Fudge was in a panic. Somehow, and for no explicable reason, Fudge believed there was a plague, and he would soon become a victim. Dumbledore had tried to reassure him by telling the man his contacts in St. Mungos were trying to determine if it was a plague, but it was unlikely. The fact the dead bodies had the Dark Mark went completely over the Minister's head. Why shouldn't it? Fudge had been claiming their innocence from the year dot.

Dumbledore looked sadly at the number of people confirmed dead. He shuddered at the thought of Severus and the terrible way he'd died. The Potions master had been having dinner with the rest of the staff when he'd gone rigid, and dropped his cutlery on his plate with a terrible scream, and then suddenly there a small glowing light that left his body. It reminded Dumbledore of the first instance where he had seen the Dementors kiss, and he had no problems recognising a soul leaving the body, but he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

But what had caused it?

Severus wasn't the only one, either. All the other Death eaters had suffered the same fate, and the horrifying manner of their deaths was apparently the driving force between the plague idea. Albus looked down at the list of Death eaters who were now dead, and felt sorry for them. They could have been redeemed long ago, instead they claimed that stupid lie and were stupidly believed by Millicent and then Cornelius.

But Dumbledore had long since hoped their redemption could have come about when they saw Voldemort die for the final time, and then they could earn their forgiveness. Now it was for nothing. Dumbledore sighed and rested his head in his hands and took a deep breath. It was such a mess. So many people had joined Voldemort, including those with children; Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had both left Draco behind, making the young Slytherin an orphan. There were others, of course, and he had no idea what was going to happen to them now. Many of them would need to be put up for adoption or would have to fend for themselves since so many people had died in the war.

Dumbledore sighed as he tried to work out for himself what had killed his Potions master and the others, and then his eyes travelled towards the secret compartment in the wall. Curiously, he stood up and walked over to it, and waved his hand over it to let it read his magical signature. The locks clicked open and he pulled it open. The cabinet was something passed down to every headmaster of the school, it wasn't something Dumbledore had made for himself.

But the object inside the cabinet was one of his best kept secrets. It was a small orb, made from crystal and filled with red liquid. Albus knew if the Ministry ever ever found out he had it, he would have to kiss goodbye to his duties and multiple roles as Britains magical ambassador and chairman. The liquid, once a rich ruby in colour, was now dull and dark. Dumbledore's heart seized as he studied it, and he even took out his wand to confirm his findings, but he had to accept the facts even as he confirmed he wasn't in a dream, because if he was then he would be disappointed.

Voldemort was dead.

Voldemort was truly dead.

It hadn't been easy for him to get his hands on the blood, either; but the best time had been during that mess of a meeting between him and Riddle when the latter had come to the school to request the DADA position, and he had managed to freeze Riddle by using his command of Hogwarts and the small time turner he had in his position to freeze time around the man, to hold him down. He had known by then Tom Riddle had become Voldemort, and if the Dark Lord expected HIM, Albus Dumbledore, the role then Riddle really did have a few pumpkins short of a full pie. Riddle might have claimed he was Slytherin's heir, but he hadn't announced it, hadn't bothered getting his hands on the Founder's ring which would have ensured the removal of his blood would not have occurred.

Since then Dumbledore had used it as an indicator to tell him if Voldemort was still alive - he still had suspicions about the horcruxes, but now he wasn't so sure - but it did fit in with the material he'd read on the subject about them. Alas, it meant little now - he had no idea where Voldemort's remains, if any, were. But, try as he might, Dumbledore couldn't help but think about Harry Potter. While it was unlikely, Dumbledore had no idea if the boy had something to do with this, and as much as people liked to believe there was more than one magical school in the world, but he'd tried to track down the boy using his contacts in other countries. Not a sign. It had been enough to drive Dumbledore even more crazy than people believed him to be, but it was true and there was nothing he could do about that.

Dumbledore had no idea what to do about this mess. Voldemort dead…..the Death eaters dead…..Harry Potter was still missing…and the Tri-Wizard tournament that he had cleverly been arranging from behind the scenes to be reinstated, hoping to use it to test Harry for when he came to Hogwarts…..No longer necessary.

The matter of the tournament had come to him when he'd been flicking through the pages of an old book just shortly after the war paused (Dumbledore had never followed the masses rather foolish belief the war was over; how could it with Voldemort still out there?), and then he'd seen the Tri-Wizard tournament in bold. That was it, he had thought elated. That would test the boy. Dumbledore would then spend the next decade multitasking between doing his duties, getting the tournament back, and searching for Harry and get him to safety while keeping an eye out for Voldemort.

Now, so many things were not necessary. He couldn't suddenly call a halt to the Tournament; it had taken him years to just get it back on the agenda, he couldn't suddenly change his mind at this point.

Actually, there was nothing he could do about any of this. The war was over, and Lord Voldemort was dead, and Harry Potter was still missing, and he had no idea who from Hogwarts would be selected, but he would support the whole event and make sure the students were safe.

* * *

After spending 2 hours getting his body back to life, Harry saw it was too late for him to do anything other than simply eat something simple, but he decided a nice, relaxing bath would do just the trick. After preparing the kitchen, Harry started the bath. As the hot and cold water poured into the tub, he leaned against the side of the dark blue tiled wall and breathe in and out gently. He still felt sore from using so much of his magic, even if it was worthwhile. After getting up off the couch, he'd grabbed the amulet using his wand, and shoved the whole thing into a metal box; he didn't know for sure if the horcruxes and the other pieces of soul would overwhelm him, but until he destroyed it there was little else he could do.

When the water was at the level he wanted it to be, he got out of his clothes and got in, moaning and wincing as his still cramped limbs sank into the water that practically made him float on the surface. He added some Radox and splashed a little to create the bubbles, letting the scent tickle his sinuses.

As he rested his head, Harry let himself relax properly, and he fought to soap himself off. He would deal with the horcrux later, but for the moment he would work on healing himself and getting stronger again. He wondered how he was going to destroy the horcrux, but decided he would take it to Gringotts and hope the goblins accepted the idea of him killing so many souls off. They might hate the horcruxes for what they did to priceless treasures since so many believed in the brute force and ignorance approach to destroying them, but would they even care that the amulet contained the souls of all the wizards stupid enough to follow the idiot?

He hoped so.

* * *

A/N. I had originally planned for Harry to go to Ilvermorny, learn magic there, and I had considered the Tri-Wizard tournament coming up would select Harry, and would have an effect on him while in America. I had several ideas. But I learnt that Rappaport act had existed, so I decided to write a story that while it was repealed, certain terms remained. Harry will learn about that in the next chapter. The other big thing is Dumbledore. There are so many manipulative Dumbledore stories out there that truly don't learn from their mistakes, and they NEVER give up. But I wanted my Dumbledore to be more realistic.

I hope you are happy with the decisions, and I look forward to hearing what you think.


	4. Chapter 4 Finishing the Horcruxes

Guest - There's no plot hole. How can he be rested if he's still exhausted? Yeah, his body might be regaining his strength, but the rest of his magic hasn't recovered.

For the other reviewers, thank you for your feedback.

Finishing the Horcruxes.

Later that evening, Harry was sitting in the living room with just one lamp turned on by his shoulder, giving him the best of the light in the room while he read the book on the history of other magical countries. The book wasn't that large; it was as big as a hardback fiction novel, and the magic imbued in the pages allowed the book to store the various histories of the different countries in its pages without having to go to all the trouble of writing various separate volumes.

All he had needed to do was to tap his wand and press the tip into the symbols of the various magical countries, and the entire book would show the history whilst storing the histories of the other countries. Harry had been reading the book for at least an hour, after he'd had his bath and had a quick bite to eat to restore his strength after using so much of his magic in the ritual, and he hadn't moved much since as he rested. He was still a bit weak and a little sore, but he was getting his strength back quickly. In the meantime he was just resting and not using magic at all, in fact the way he felt he doubted he could cast a simple lighting spell never mind something bigger.

He was too tired magically after the ritual that he doubted he could deal with the amulet right away. In the meantime he distracted himself with getting his strength back, and distracting his mind. He immersed himself into the history of Magical America, he was fascinated to learn more about the Rappaport's law, and the reasons why muggleborns weren't allowed to study magic in American magical schools. It did help take his mind over what he had to do with the amulet. He was still trying to rebuild his physical, mental, and magical strength after using virtually all of it combined to drain the souls of the Death eaters and their twisted boss.

A cup of coffee was on the table next to his sofa while he read the book for over 3 hours. Some of it he'd known already; Harry's parents had learnt over the years that where the muggle world was dealing with the continual chaos caused by the never ending ascension of various kings and queens who came to power, the ceaseless wars before the First and Second World wars came around to accelerate muggle science, the Wizarding world around the planet had isolated themselves from their muggle counterparts in answer to the never ending prejudice and fear muggles had towards magic. The attitude was 'if they can't live with us, they can live without us, and we can finally live in peace without being terrified for our lives', and the magical world had followed that doctrine ever since. It went both ways - while the Wizarding world was safe from harm, many witches and wizards were taught that muggles were primitive beings afraid of the unknown, and so savage they even killed their own. Harry could understand their point of view, especially since muggles hadn't really grown up and would fight anyone; he might be a muggleborn, but he had seen first hand the prejudice muggles had towards bizarre incidents, but he also pitied the muggles. They had missed out on a chance to explore and understand a world that moviemakers and fiction writers wrote about but got both wrong and right simply because they were so afraid of the unknown while professing they weren't afraid at all. But if the wizards hadn't decided to hide, then their whole civilisation, thousands of years of history, would have been wiped out, and if there was one thing prevalent in each culture, it was to survive. The Wizarding world simply took it a few steps further, that was all.

But that didn't stop the muggles. While very few witches and wizards were killed compared to the number of people the muggles had killed, the amount of magical blood that had actually spilled during the carnage of events like the Salem Witch trials was minimal, but it was enough to keep wizards and witches away from muggles. The wizards and witches who were actually caught were more down to luck on the part of the muggles, all the other victims were just that. Victims of prejudice and envy, but still victims of ignorant muggles who probably only accused them of witchcraft for stupid reasons.

It was because of the small number of people that were caught by muggles and then killed that the wizarding world hid from them, but then again when the muggles actively destroyed what they didn't comprehend it wasn't a surprise.

Even the time of King Arthur wasn't what the fantasy writers believed it to be. Merlin had been born in an age of magical persecution and prejudice, and it was a time where many wizards and witches were going into hiding behind wards so then they could survive. Merlin had even needed to hide the truth of his powers from Arthur for years, and when the King finally found out it was too late. He was dying, and after he died nothing Merlin had done had made much difference. Merlin had waited for years to reveal the truth to his friend, who had seen the damage and carnage magic could cause in the wrong hands, but one wrong word and all his work would have been for nothing.

Harry made an unhappy face when he read about the result; as soon as he read that particular section of the book, he knew it wouldn't be good. It was the most savage reminder wizards had that muggles would never accept them, and this time thousands of witches and wizards were killed. Even Godric Gryffindor who had wanted to have both worlds integrated to prevent more pain and grief soon realised he was wasting his time when the muggles murdered his family, and witch hunts were growing in popularity and any sign of magic was instantly attacked by the muggles, which included magical creatures like unicorns and even Centaurs who were content to let the muggles live in their own settlements and be at peace. But no, they needed to attack simply because of their fear. Old Godric wasn't the only founder of Hogwarts who'd suffered. Slythern himself had been orphaned at a young age by muggles who'd killed his entire family, and he'd had to rely on his cunning to just survive. But before Gryffindor came to that realisation, he'd travelled the world for a while, and he'd started to rethink his plans and his dreams for making the magical world and the muggle world become friends when he toured magical Asia - specifically countries like India and China, he saw that the wizards and witches in both parts of the world, along with a few places in Scandinavia and Africa had separated from the muggle communities which had always been unstable and wracked with violence and destruction, and their worlds thrived and they kept their heritage and knowledge alive. In those communities, the people had just about had enough of the barbaric muggles. Harry shook his head, unsurprised by the Wizarding world's reasons. All they wanted was to be left alone, to live in peace.

Hogwarts marked a new age for magical people around the world. For hundreds of years witches and wizards had bene educated and taught magic by their families or through apprenticeships, but the creation of Hogwarts where magical children would meet and learn their craft together to exchange magical knowledge together in a fair environment where apprentices were taught only one at a time. Other schools appeared around Europe, and soon magically educated children began making their mark on Europe. Asia soon followed, teaching their own children and future generations magical knowledge and traditions going back centuries. Where the magical civilisation worldwide was growing, a revolution was taking place. Apprentice taught witches and wizards only took their mentors knowledge to the next level, but school taught witches and wizards were able to open the doors to new fields of magical study and grow them.

Where the muggle world was still wracked with chaos and destruction for centuries, the magical world was flourishing and it was safely hidden away from muggles. Wizards had collectively decided that the muggles could destroy themselves anytime they liked, they would not be involved with them anymore, and that had been a staple of magical philosophy for centuries.

Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. He was a muggle born, a second generation, but he was still a muggle born, but while he was a little upset that even back then wizards and witches had decided to just ignore muggles, he could understand the problem after hearing about the breach in the Statute of Secrecy in America.

Witches and wizards had also settled in America a few hundred years before Christopher Columbus had even been born, and they had encountered the Native American Indians there; like all primitive magical societies, the Native Americans' skills with magic varied from tribe to tribe, many of them had skills comparable to the druids in Europe, while others had rather primitive and rudimentary magical abilities. After the inevitable clash between two different cultures, the witches and wizards who'd come had helped teach the Native American Indians more advanced potion making skills and the basics of a more advanced form of magic, but they had enough common sense to not give them magical powers that they simply could not control.

In return the grateful Indians had given them access to their own magic, and while it might have looked foolish it had worked; the Europeans had long since mastered and moved past the level of the Indians centuries before. Magical settlements had grown in America, whole groups of settlers from Europe and Asia came and colonised parts of America in harmony, exploring the country and solving many mysteries that expanded their knowledge greatly of the continent. But those magical settlements were small and isolated, and it wouldn't be until the 17th century that they began to grow with the influx of more settlers from Europe. In the meantime, the settlers were just there to get the lay of the land. They encountered the Aztecs and the Incas, and while they didn't approve of the human sacrificial ceremonies, the wizards just let the muggle side of the Aztec civilisation get on with things before making peace with the magical side which didn't practice human sacrifice at all. Where the muggle Aztecs worshipped the sun, performing sacrifices, their magical counterparts worshipped magic itself, and they worshipped nature. Their ancient sorcerers had learnt a great deal about magic, and they exchanged their knowledge with other countries in return for some of their knowledge, which the Europeans were more than happy to give.

Harry made another unhappy face. And then the muggles had finally arrived. The European and Asian wizards and witches had given their magical counterparts in America and Mexico warnings for years about the dangers of muggles how they destroyed everything they couldn't and would never accept, and in the end they were right.

Muggles would spend the next few hundred years exploring America, destroying parts of the country, and eventually the muggle Aztecs were destroyed but the magical Aztecs survived, and to this day they were an integral part of magical America. With more muggles in America, it was logical for witches and wizards to come as well.

* * *

When the MACUSA came into being, magical America was gripped in chaos as they struggled to grow their communities, and they separated the country into states like the muggles did, but Harry couldn't tell for sure when it happened or if the wizards had simply copied the muggles. At that time the Scourers were roaming the lands like the outlaws of the time in the muggle world.

Harry sneered as his eyes scanned the text that told the story of how the scourers had gone from a basic band of mercenaries into a corrupt bunch of vigilantes and bounty hunters who tracked down criminals and anyone for whom a reward was offered. They resorted to torture and murder, taking advantages of the lack of real wizarding governance and law enforcement. In time they became even more sick, they began engaging in wizard-trafficking, and they also turned muggles (No-Majs) over to witch hunting Puritans for gold.

But when law enforcement began to grow when the nascent MACUSA, or rather a crude form of it, rose to power, and the Scourers were being hunted at last and were tried and executed for their crimes, some of them didn't hide in the magical world. No. They did the opposite. Harry started shaking his head softly as he read how some of the Scourers evaded justice by marrying No-Majs and integrating into their society, but he was also intrigued by their clever strategy in hiding in the muggle world. Their descendants had an impact in the centuries that followed, and some of the descendants acquired an intense hatred of all things magical.

A wizarding historian called Theophilus Abbot identified several families that had been founded by the Scourers, and each of them were marked by a profound belief in magic's existence and had a truly worrying hatred of magic. The activism of these descendants was one of the reasons North American No-Maj's were harder to fool when it came to magic than others. Harry shook his head as he began seeing for himself the real problems the North American wizards had to put up with when it came to their No-Maj counterparts.

* * *

And then things got worse, and although Harry had already heard of the story, this was the first time he was reading it for himself. In the 18th century, one of these scourer descendants, an American No-Maj by the name of Bartholomew Barebone somehow managed to ply details about the magical world from a witch. Dorcus Twelvetrees when he met her at a picnic, of all things. The stupid cow had been infatuated with the No-Maj at once, and she performed little tricks to impress him. Harry groaned when he read that, and it was also helpful of the writer of the book to have put in that Dorcus was described as "pretty, but dim", which was a worrying combination. Apparently the author had wanted those details written into the book, and Harry wondered if the author had provided similar footnotes into the rest of the book. Dorcus was apparently not that good academically, and was only interested in organising parties and styling her hair.

Barebone feigned amazement and he began plying her for details, and without a shred of common sense, Twelvetrees gave them the details of the MACUSA's headquarters. That was probably bad enough given Barebone's ingrained hatred for magic, but the idiot had also given him the location of Illvermorny. Harry shook his head, trying to remind himself that Dorcus had been infatuated in Barebone, that she had no idea that he'd known about magic all of his life and had grown up hating it.

Barebone also got away with Dorcus's wand, which she obligingly showed him, and he revealed it to other No-Maj's. Some thought him a crank but there were those who didn't, and published pictures of it, describing "How it had a kick like a mule" when it was waved. Harry became thoughtful, did Barebone had some magic in him, or was it some defence mechanism wands possessed when held by a muggle. Barebone then used the information Dorcus had given him and wrote and printed a series of leaflets detailing the locations of Illvermorny and the MACUSA's location. Some No-Maj's were motivated to investigate and see if "evil occult parties" actually practiced there. Harry closed his eyes, pitying the MACUSA for having to clean up that mess and mitigate the worst of the disaster, but he wondered if some of the old articles of Twelvetree's wand still existed and had been passed down to the modern day as proof magic existed.

But Barebone wasn't satisfied by all this even if he'd whipped up such a mess. Oh no. He gathered a group of gun wielding friends, probably other Scourer descendants like himself, and set out to persecute witches and wizards. Harry wondered if it would have worked even with everything Barebone had gleaned from Twelvetrees.

And then, in the mother of all ironies, Barebone overstepped himself by shooting at what he believed to be a group of MACUSA wizards, too giddy with the mission and his earlier triumphs with managing to steal a wand from a stupid and careless witch, but it turned out they weren't wizards at all. Harry winced as he read on. They were No-Maj's like him, and they had left a suspected building while he was watching it. No one was killed, but Harry almost wished someone had been killed, because then Barebone's punishment would have been worse and the MACUSA would have taken more extreme precautions in future.

The MACUSA were left floundering in the aftermath of the disaster. It was one of the largest breaches in the Statute of Secrecy, and the MACUSA struggled to cope with it all; they had to find the No-Maj's who been exposed to the knowledge magic existed, and they had to wipe their memories, but unfortunately Barebone had handed out too many leaflets and letters, and heaven alone knows how many copies of those damn photos had been sent around, making Harry once more wonder if some American No-Maj's had copies of them hidden somewhere. Even President Emily Rappaport had testified they had no way of being sure they'd obliviated everyone's memories.

Harry didn't have much sympathy for Dorcus Twelvetrees after reading about the mess she had caused, and he wasn't surprised that opinion was divided over what should happen to her. Some said she should be imprisoned for life, others said she should be executed for what she had done. However, she spent only a year in prison, and when she came out she was a deeply traumatised and disgraced woman. She lived out the rest of her life in isolation.

Stupid bitch, Harry thought to himself, thinking she had gotten off lightly.

The consequences of Dorcus's supreme act of stupidity were felt even to this day. Rappaport's law had been repealed, but it had banned witches and wizards from marrying or even befriending No-Maj's, meting out harsh punishments if anyone disobeyed. Only actions "necessary to perform daily activities" were allowed to continue, but only that.

Another side effect of the law was when students at magical schools attended places like Salems or Illvermorny, they were issued their wands onsite and when the holidays came they would have to leave them behind, and when they were 17 they were allowed to purchase a wand legally. Rappaport's law drove the North American wizards deeper underground, widening the cultural divide even more between them and the wizarding communities in Europe.

In Europe, the magical governments kept and maintained clandestine contact with the muggle world, and wizards were allowed to marry non magical people, but in America it was forbidden. Harry was unsure if the law had intended for the effect it had, but it happened nonetheless; wizards and witches showed an increasing level of hostility towards No-Maj's. Personally he wasn't surprised; in their eyes Dorcus had betrayed them to a society who would and could wipe them out if given the chance, so of course they'd be nervous and that fear would turn to hatred.

Harry also read that the Rappaport's law had also made it clear that witches and wizards born in No-Maj families were forbidden from attending schools; again, not a real surprise, but it made Harry wonder if the magical president of the MACUSA at the time had been prejudiced towards muggleborns, but it made little difference now. The point was it had happened, and muggleborns were left to live without knowledge of magic, or the chance of meeting other people who understood them.

Even to this day the MACUSA had prohibited muggleborns from joining their world, but they must have knowledge of them - that hunter, for instance, knew about muggleborns, and from the sounds of it the prejudice towards them was the norm. So maybe it was a good thing he hadn't attended Illvermorny, after all. Harry shuddered as he considered the prejudice in places like Hogwarts. In the Ministry of Magic in this country, it was obvious that, although they tried to present themselves as an impartial society, pureblood families were given more credibility.

But despite all the appeals for banning muggleborns, blaming them for those shitty rumours that muggles stole magic or some other bullshit lies like them, persecuting them, at least the European countries accepted muggleborns to a point.

Not in Magical America.

Harry had no idea if the Americans were going to repeal their laws and allow a slow but steady trickle of muggleborns into their world, but he somehow doubted it; they probably condoned the slayers and hunters like the one that had attacked Harry on the night he'd recovered the memories of his parents, so it was hard for them to accept muggleborns at this stage. Besides, with the prejudice and hatred simmering beneath the surface after that mess with Barebone, he doubted they would ever get over it. And since they didn't have muggleborns in their society, it would hardly work out like the American civil rights movement; in those days black people lived and worked in North American even with all the prejudice, and they had fought for the rights of all black people. With no muggleborn to lead the charge, the MACUSA didn't have the motivation to change their attitude.

* * *

Even after he'd recovered his strength, Harry was still uncertain about what to do with the locket. He wanted to blast it with a killing curse - the Avada Kedavra curse was powerful, and since it separated the soul from the body, it was the perfect and probably the most simplest spell that would destroy the horcruxes and the souls imprisoned within it.

While he was sure it would work, the problem was whether the spell would be detected. Harry had been hidden in the muggle world for years, he didn't want to suddenly get caught by the Ministry, and if there was one thing that he'd gleaned from his parents' memories, it was the contempt they held for the Ministry, and how they rolled over themselves to please the pureblood families.

The thought that bunch of incompetent idiots putting two and two together if he showed up out of the blue after a decade of being missing, assuming they even cared, and studied the amulet before finding out it contained the trapped souls of the Death eaters who were members of their precious, upstanding society. A malicious and mocking sneer spread across his face at the thought, then his features took on a lets get down to business expression even if he couldn't see it.

There was probably nothing else for it, he thought to himself, he'd have to visit Gringotts again and ask the goblins for help. Harry had hoped to do this by himself, just slip quietly into Britain, get to Diagon Alley and visit the goblins, perform the ritual without anyone knowing about what he was doing, destroy the locket somehow, and then leave and get back to America. He had hoped to do it all quietly without someone as meddlesome as Dumbledore, and as stupid as the Ministry of Magic getting in the way.

Another problem was his wand - if he went back to America, what would stop the American Aurors from trying to arrest him because he owned a wand?

Harry thought over a few things, and wondered if perhaps he should move over to Britain rather than live in America. While he had lived there, he'd always felt like an outsider, and his Britain accent hadn't helped matters either. If he moved, he would have access to the magical world rather than living in ignorance, but he didn't have to decide today if he wanted to move. There were downsides as well, obvious ones.

* * *

After having a quick breakfast, Harry left his flat and headed for Diagon Alley. The first place he went to was the shop where he'd gotten the wand.

The shopkeeper looked up at him in surprise, then he smiled. "Back again, I see?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I should have asked you before, but is do I need a licence for the wand if I happened to move to America."

"If I were you," the shopkeeper said seriously, his cheerful demeanour disappearing in favour of a more serious manner, "I wouldn't move to America and deal with their magical community full stop. They have all kinds of laws that make sense on the outside, but inwardly they cause more problems than they're worth."

"In what way?"

"Do you know anything about their magical history?"

"I know that decades ago, one of their population, a witch, was charmed by a muggle who happened to know about magic, and she stupidly told him the locations of the MACUSA but also the location of Ilvermorny. Afterwards they had a helluva time trying to mitigate the worst of the disaster. After that they banned young witches and wizards from carrying wands around until they hit 17."

"That's it, yeah," the shopkeeper replied, hiding how impressed he was by the way he'd replied to the question about America's magical history, "when foreigners arrive in Magical America, they have to spend days securing a temporary VISA licence for their wands. It's expensive and its irritating. Don't try it, if you're planning on seeing magical America then at least go there on holiday, and if you have to move, then move someplace where you have some freedom."

"You make America sound like a dictatorship," Harry observed, he had no intention of telling the man he lived in America himself. It would open a can worms he didn't need.

"It's not, but after that mess they have every right to be cautious of muggles," the shopkeeper replied.

* * *

Harry sat lazily in the chair, well that was how the goblins would describe his posture, but a more astute observer would have seen he was thoughtful and alert. After the enlightening talk with the shopkeeper of the wand shop, Harry went thoughtfully to the goblins and held up the amulet for the arrogant teller to examine. He had told the goblin that he had simply gathered all of Voldemort's horcruxes, and those of his followers, and had them in the amulet for disposal.

Finally two goblins strode in, both of them dressed in expensive looking pinstripe suits. Neither goblin spoke even as Harry stood up to greet them, knowing from his parent's experiences that the goblins really didn't like it when a horcrux was brought into their presence. They saw the things as abominations of nature after all. Both goblins examined the locket and spoke in the language Harry only had a basic knowledge of, but since goblins were a naturally surly race and quick to anger, it was hard for Harry to know for sure whether they were happy or pleased. "Mr Potter," one of the goblins in a gravelly voice, "I was surprised when you dared to bring this abomination into our midst, but when I heard you had problems getting rid of it I was unsurprised."

Harry didn't take offence to that, knowing that the goblin understood his reasons for coming here today. "I didn't want the magical world to know I was here," he said simply, "I also wasn't sure if the Ministry wouldn't detect my wand signature."

Harry had no idea if he had the Trace on himself since he had never attended magical school, but he had no intention of putting it up to the test. The goblin who'd spoken let his colleague speak. "The Trace is applied on every witch and wizard as they board the Hogwarts express," he said, "the spell is applied every time they leave for the muggle world."

Harry felt a little foolish, but he felt justified a little by his concerns about being tracked by the British Ministry who would cause him no end of problems especially if they discovered he had used a ritual to suck all the souls of the Death eaters and their boss into a piece of jewellery. "It wasn't just the Trace," he said, deciding to point out to the goblins how he felt about his countrymen and their stick-their-heads-into-the-sand-and-pretend-not-to-care-unless-the-purebloods-are-happy philosophy, "I know that the British Ministry are arrogant, they'd make sure I received the Dementors kiss if they ever found out what I'd done."

The goblins looked at one another. They knew he was telling the truth, but whether or not the pair of them were surprised that he had made the connection, or if they simply thought he was just making up for his 'stupidity', Harry didn't know and didn't care, either.

"Can we move on, I didn't come here today to debate the stupidity of witches and wizards," Harry said calmly, "can you deal with the amulet, or not?"

It was a risky business, giving the goblins attitude, but Harry couldn't see any other way he could get his point across to make things get moving, he was tired being fucked around, having his actions debated about, and he was sick of it. He had decided against going after Voldemort simply because there was a chance he couldn't win against the Dark Lord, and to be honest he didn't want to try. He had enough memories of his parent's meetings with the Dark Lord, knew they were the stuff of nightmares. Harry wasn't a coward, but even he would balk at the thought of fighting someone who was a terrifying opponent. Voldemort wasn't your average dueller. No, he wasn't a dueller. He was a fighter, and so incredibly unpredictable that few could match him. Where most wizards and witches would use high powered curses and spells to bring down their opponents, Voldemort would do that and yet he would use spells that most duellers wouldn't even think to use. In that sense Voldemort was a maverick. He would use transfiguration and charm spells that most children learnt in their first two years of magical education, confusing his opponents for a moment before he fired a particularly dangerous curse. He would launch tickling charms that were so basic that they sometimes got under the defences of the opponent, then followed by vicious spells fired in quick succession Voldemort's opponent would be hard pressed to defend against.

The problem with fighting Voldemort was he didn't have any issue wearing his opponents down, he would still be in fighting form by the end of it, and because of his unpredictability and his mastery of the mind arts, it was hard to get an idea of what spell he would use next. Harry had decided that life was sweeter, so he had decided not to try. Sure, if he had been raised in the magical world, he might have had a chance, though he doubted it. The only reason his parents had managed to survive was because of their proficiency in ancient magic, but Voldemort wasn't a slouch. Another thing he'd hoped to avoid was the death toll. Harry didn't want the magical world to be faced into a long term fight for god knows how many years, and he didn't want them to look for another poor kid to save their skins simply because he wasn't around. Some might call him a coward, but Harry didn't care.

He was a burglar. If there was one thing he had learnt in that time, it was never never ever look for a fight and to avoid them at all cost. Harry was a tough fighter, honed by years in dojos and in kickboxing rings, so he could defend himself with relative ease. He had been trained by former soldiers and marines who had become down on their collective luck and had taught him some bits and pieces. But Harry knew better than to try his luck, and thanks to his relative inexperience when it came to magical duelling through he had his parents knowledge on it, there was no way of knowing for sure if the fight would even go that way.

The two goblins looked at each other before regarding him again. "As long as you do not try to harm us," one of them said with a growl that told him this was not a threat, but a warning, "you may cast the killing curse on the amulet."

Harry nodded and he took his wand out and aimed it at the amulet, which glinted in the light. Harry closed his eyes and let all the loathing he felt, all the pain he wanted to cause others who had gotten on the wrong side of him, how he yearned to kill them… he felt it all bubble up within him, and he incanted, "Avada Kedavra."

The killing curse erupted out of his wand like a burst of green fire, rushing towards the amulet, and when it hit the piece of silver jewellery there was the terrible screeching of dozens of voices before they were extinguished forever.

* * *

When he left the bank, Harry leaned against one of the support columns outside, and closed his eyes, feeling as though a great weight had lifted off his shoulders. Still elated, Harry began walking out of the alley and back into the muggle world, wanting to do some exploring and maybe even pick a few pockets, but as he began his journey out of the alley, something caught his eye.

It was the newspaper stands. The main headlines read "Pureblood casualties high - strange ailment hits upstanding members of society," or "What is killing our citizens? Ministry still baffled." Making sure the guy near the stand who sold the papers was occupied, Harry picked one of the papers up and began reading it for a few minutes before he put it back, and then carried on with getting out, but this time he was more thoughtful than elated like he had been before.

The purebloods dying didn't bother him that much, especially since he and his parents and other muggleborns had suffered at their hands (well, he was targeted by that hunter, and there were probably dozens of other muggleborns back in America who had somehow survived, or hadn't been lucky enough to tell the tale, to say nothing of the MACUSA's policy of keeping muggleborns out of their country), but what annoyed Harry the most was just how blind these people were. When he had browsed that paper, no mention had been made at all about their Death eater ties, and there wasn't even the hint of suspicion the Dark Mark had anything to do with their sudden illnesses. After today, he knew, they wouldn't be calling it an illness, but rather a massacre. Harry wondered if he had made a mistake by killing the Death eaters, but he quickly pushed it aside, knowing that it wasn't his guilt talking but his practicality. He knew they probably had children of their own, children that they had spent the last decade teaching how to become the next generation of Death eater, but now that Voldemort was gone and soon it would be reported that the parent(s) were also gone, what would stop those kids from trying to take their place?

Part of Harry knew it was his fault, but he also knew that the parents of those children were also to blame, not to mention Dumbledore, the teachers at Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic itself. If Dumbledore and the teachers under him had bothered to open their eyes, see that their head-in-the-sand trick caused more harm than it solved, maybe things wouldn't have gotten so bad and out of hand as it did. The Ministry had done the same, stuck their heads in the sand, only for more political reasons.

The other part of him didn't give a damn. The magical world had survived for thousands of years, and even if the British community died out, the magical world would survive in some shape or form. It was tragic, but if they couldn't solve their own problems without resorting to the stupid philosophy of calling a baby their saviour when they hadn't even done anything, then they were screwed and they deserved to die out.

Harry sighed and walked out of Diagon Alley.

* * *

All in all it had been a fairly good day, he reflected when he got through the door of his temporary abode, finding London more enjoyable even if New York was his city. When he dropped his shopping on the table - he was still unsure what to do with most of the stuff he bought, but his plans to move from America to London were gaining a lot of weight. Harry smirked as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a wad of pound notes; he'd have to do the currency conversion to get an idea of how much cash he had in dollars, but he knew in a few days, he could very well have the makings of a fortune that could move him here. He'd already done some research and found that the general costs of living were lower in Britain than in America.

After safely locking the money away, Harry went to cook dinner.


	5. Chapter 5 Last Days in Britain

Last Days in Britain.

Harry spent the last few days of his holiday in Britain just soaking up the culture, with Voldemort and his followers gone he could now find the time he needed to relax. Despite finding it easy for himself to immerse himself in the hustle and bustle of London, particularly the West End, Harry was still debating whether he should move here or not. He would need to spend a lot of his time going backwards and forwards to investigate various properties though he doubted it would be a problem getting his things to the UK since he didn't have a great deal.

He wondered if it had anything to do with him having his wand, and the problem of needing a license or something to keep it. Harry had no intention of broadcasting to the magical world, any community of it, where he was and what he was doing. Voldemort might be gone, but the magical world weren't very open minded when it came to muggleborns, who knew what they'd do to him? He didn't have any problems living the rest of his life alone since he'd spent the majority of his childhood living alone, he had had a few dates with girls back in the States, but nothing permanent.

But even if he did move to Britain what would he do for the rest of his life? Being a thief might be seen as romantic and exciting, but there was a constant danger, constant pressure, and there were dozens of rivals who'd think nothing of trying to muscle in on the patch you'd set up. Getting a normal job would help him in the long term, and Harry was considering it, but then he wasn't stupid - he knew that no matter what he did, he would need a straight line of work.

But would it would in the UK?

One thing was certain, he couldn't move right away. Orphans couldn't just suddenly up and leave for other countries, so even if he did run away from America, it wouldn't help him. He would need to spend time working, developing his skills and keeping as far from the MACUSA as possible - he wondered how they would feel about having a wizard born in Britain who'd managed by a quirk of fate to end up in an orphanage in New York under their very nose, but he also wondered how they would feel about him having a wand when he returned to America and they realised he was someone they couldn't control - and just try to live his life without anyone realising who he really was.

He wondered how many plans he'd screwed up just by hiding from people like Dumbledore and Voldemort, but he didn't care anymore; unless Dumbledore found a more straightforward way to track him down, though why he didn't know since Voldemort was dead and the prophecy had been fulfilled, the chances of anyone finding him were slim.

The decision to leave London and basically travel around was one of the best decisions he'd ever made - after spending a virtual lifetime trapped in the confines of one massive city, Harry was amazed by the green rolling countryside as he travelled by train to other parts of the country, and besides when you had seen one city after another you began to think if you've seen one city you've seen them all, but British cities were vastly different from places like Manhattan.

While Harry travelled across the country for the next few days, travelling from London to places like Bath and Bristol, and Devon and Cornwall, he felt as if his decision to leave the US and simply emigrate to Britain was foreordained. Along the way he also took a number of photographs - his decision to live in his former home country may not even happen if he decided to simply stay in New York simply because it was easier to stay there rather than go through all the strain of coming back here, but even if he decided he was better off living in the US he would like to have a nice record of his temporary stay in Britain.

While Harry was travelling around the country, he wondered what was happening in the wizarding world - he wished he had spent some time living in it because while the memories his parents had grafted into his brain gave him a good idea of what wizards were capable of, it was still second hand knowledge and information that didn't really help after a while - and he wondered whether it was even functioning after everything that had happened.

Then he shrugged. It made no difference to him. The pureblood's inability to grow beyond their prejudiced attitudes towards people like Lily and James Potter and himself and the other muggleborns had been their downfall, many of them had wanted all muggleborns wiped out or were frightened into joining a madman, and they had paid the price for their decisions. While politics weren't exactly his strong suit, he knew enough to know many of the pureblooded Death eaters who'd just died when their magic was taken from them had bene high in government, big in business, people of power and influence. With many of them probably gone - Harry had to shake his head about how stupid and short sighted some of these wizards were since they should have given Voldemort cash and resources (he doubted Voldemort had bound them to him for their dazzling intellects, but he could be wrong) without being marked - the wizarding world was probably plunged into chaos.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, flicking his wand around his office to prevent anyone from calling him via the floo network or knocking on his door. He wasn't in the mood to speak to anybody, he had spent an entire day at the Ministry of Magic and he was relieved to be back at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to deal with any school matters for the time being. Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed with relief, trying to gently exorcise the voice of Cornelius Fudge out of his brain, but after hearing the little idiot constantly asking question after question and trying to latch onto something he could use to push the blame on someone or something Dumbledore was tired. Dealing with Fudge was increasingly becoming tricky for the old wizard.

Ever since the people confirmed to be Death eaters and people suspected of joining Voldemort, and those who had never been suspected as being the type to even join the ranks of the Death eaters ranks had suddenly lost their magic and were slowly dying or were already dead from whatever had happened to them, Dumbledore had needed to work overtime at the Ministry and use his connections to mitigate the worst of the disaster. Many of those people were men and women of power and influence, business people who ran businesses their families had been running for decades or even centuries, and they had been providing Voldemort either with intelligence or funding.

All in all it was a massive mess, and it had come out of nowhere. One minute all of the Death eaters had been healthy, awaiting the day their master would be returning, and something Dumbledore was more than aware of since the Dark Mark on Severus's forearm was becoming darker indicating the Dark Lord would be returning soon. The next they were dead or dying, according to the healers who examined them their magical cores were practically gone. Some of the Death eaters had died from the shock of losing their magic, but some of the physically more robust members would probably last longer, they would just be squibs.

Dumbledore sighed and opened his eyes and summoned a house elf and asked for a simple but filling meal with some cider. He felt that the alcohol would numb his brain down in preparation for sleep, but also to give him a bit more respite from Fudge. While he waited for the house elf to come back he wondered, not for the first time, what to make out of all of his mess.

Fudge was in a panic since many of the Death eaters were his bribers though he called them his personal friends and vouched for them every time he had a photo opportunity. It was an open secret in the wizarding world that Fudge was a useless simpleton who ran backwards and forwards to know what to do, and while the likes of Darren Nott and Lucius Malfoy were subtle and knew when to be cautious Fudge didn't. It horrified and annoyed Dumbledore, who had seen many a Minister of Magic for this country take bribes in the past, that despite all of the times he'd been given advice the Minister was too stupid to make his own decisions.

No, that was too harsh. Fudge had spent too long during the early days of his time in the Minister's role being told what to do and asking for advice because he simply didn't understand the work the new job entailed he couldn't function without it anymore. But now Fudge was running around the Ministry making it much harder for people like Albus and Amelia Bones from working and trying their best to repair the damage. He was forever getting in the way, and trying to stop Amelia and the rest of the DMLE from investigating the Death eaters - known and unknown. Albus knew Amelia Bones well enough to know it was only her professionalism that was stopping her from fatally injuring Fudge, but people could be pushed only so far.

And Fudge was certainly pushing the wrong people, he and his chief hatchet woman (why Dolores Umbridge hadn't been among the list of Death eaters who'd lost their magic, Dumbledore didn't know, but since he was aware of how much Umbridge agreed with the philosophy behind Voldemort's beliefs losing her wouldn't be a problem), and Dumbledore had no intention of mediating for him. Fudge was a grown man, he should know how to defend himself by now. Besides the idiot was constantly pestering everyone who was trying to find out what was happening, and he wondered why they weren't getting any further.

When the House elf returned with a delicious looking meal on a tray with a massive mug and an equally big bottle of cider - the old wizard wondered if the House elf was either trying to be too helpful or had taken the instructions literally, but he wasn't going to say a word - he thanked the little creature and began to eat and drink. He relaxed more as the alcohol soothed his frayed and tattered brain. Cider was more mild than fire whiskey and besides he didn't want to return to the Ministry with a hangover.

Albus was halfway through his meal when the fireplace flared, indicating someone wanted to speak to him but couldn't. Albus sighed, but since he'd eaten and drunken some of the cider the house elf had given him, he felt more than good enough to speak to whoever it was - as long as it wasn't Fudge or Umbridge.

He quickly checked the connection - and quickly unlocked it. With his wand he levitated some powder and threw it all into the fire. "Hello Algernon, do you want to come through?"

The flames in the fireplace flared reddish green and a man wearing simple black robes stepped out. He was an old man, but unlike Dumbledore he didn't have a long beard, instead his face was clean shaven but it highlighted the various wrinkles and pockmarks on the man's face. But there was no doubting the man's vitality and intelligence, his eyes blazed with both.

"Hello Albus," Algernon Croaker, the head of the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries greeted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the cider bottle on the table, and he gestured towards it, "may I?"

"Please," Albus replied. "I had to have some alcohol after dealing with Cornelius all day."

"Yes, well," Croaker muttered as he conjured a mug for himself and poured a decent amount of cider into it, "you're not the only one who's had to deal with our illustrious Minister," he sneered the words, "but its a good thing my department can isolate itself, which is how we're so good at research."

Albus raised his own eyebrow. "I know its against your department's code, Algernon, but if you can give me some clue of what's going on, I would be grateful."

"We were planning to release the news anyway. The whole thing is too large scale, too high profile to ignore or keep quiet about, although we would need to keep quiet on certain details," Algernon stressed the last two words, but he quickly shrugged his shoulders. "You're not the only person to take an interest in Lord Voldemort, Albus. Your interest was less subtle than our own. There have been few wizards who used rituals periodically to become more magically powerful, and even few have drastically altered their appearance the way Voldemort did."

Albus didn't say a word. While he had an aversion to anyone knowing about his secrets or his suspicions, things even those in his inner circle like Minerva and Alastor were never meant to know, Algernon was different. The other wizard was 30 years older than Albus, and although he was a powerful wizard he was simply more interested in what his department did. Albus had learnt over the years to never try to pry too much into the affairs of the Department of Mysteries. It was just a relief that Algernon was an ally rather than an enemy, though Albus knew the other man didn't wholly trust him.

There were many rumours about the DOM. Many people just believed they were researchers who probed deeper into the ancient mysteries of magics lost to time, but there were others who saw them as spies and assassins. Albus himself had never really worked out which one was correct, maybe they were both correct since Algernon knew a vast amount about different forms of magic. If anyone could guess or suspect Voldemort had used horcruxes, it would be Algernon and the other Unspeakables.

One of the many things he admired about Algernon Croaker was he wasn't frightened of the Taboo curse, or the silly fear others had towards Voldemort. While Albus had to admit Voldemort was cunning for using psychological warfare in such a manner by cursing his name so unsuspecting people could fall into a trap resulting in their deaths, Albus believed it took things too far, but then whoever said Voldemort understood the rules of civilised warfare?

Albus had hoped to keep such information under wraps, but it was too late and there was not much Dumbledore could do about it. "I believe he made horcruxes," Dumbledore admitted to the other wizard's surprise since it was rare for such secrets to come out, "they and the rituals he used on himself altered his appearance. So whenever he appeared during a public attack everyone would see a tall thin wizard with an ophidian face."

"We will have to keep that silent. Horcruxes are incredibly hard to track down for those who believe in rubbish like what's printed in The Darkest Arts. There's a ritual that can bring all the soul pieces together and drain the idiot responsible for making them of their magic."

"I never knew that," Dumbledore admitted, looking surprised.

"It's true, and I'm not surprised since the ritual is very old magic and is taught to several groups including Unspeakables and Curse Breakers," Algernon replied.

Dumbledore had been taking another sip from his mug when Algernon informed him of that detail, and he paused as something came to his mind. "Algernon, Harry Potter's parents were both Curse Breakers before their deaths, could they have been trained to deal with horcruxes?"

"Almost certainly. Curse Breakers encounter horcruxes as often as Unspeakables do. I see where you're going with this idea, Albus, and although it's unlikely its also not impossible that his parents could have transferred some of their knowledge to him before their deaths."

"Lily and James were guarded around me before then," Dumbledore commented, "I knew they were up to something, but I could never tell what. All I know is they were trying to get their son away from Britain."

Algernon shrugged. "I'm not surprised," he commented, "if my children were being hunted by a Dark Lord as crazy as Voldemort, I wouldn't want them anywhere near here, though I'd make sure the bastard learnt the depths of his mistake of hunting them down if he did. It's not impossible that the Potters wanted their son to grow up as far from this country as possible since Voldemort wouldn't want a kid of all things to be the one to have beaten him in the past. Lily and James Potter also had access to magic in tombs, so its possible they found something to use."

"But is it possible they could have transferred knowledge to Harry?" Now Dumbledore had the idea in his mind he couldn't let it go. He had spent years trying to find Harry Potter in the hopes of fulfilling the prophecy. Deep down he knew Tom Riddle was his fault, he wished he'd taken the time to find out what was happening in the muggle world during the Second World War. If he had known that the Germans were dropping bombs on London and other parts of Britain and that Tom was frightened of being blown to kingdom come then he would have ensured the boy had a safe place to call home during the summers. But no. Instead of doing his research he had just left Riddle to his fate, and the boy had become obsessed with immortality - he still wasn't sure if it was the London Blitz, seeing the bombs rain death and destruction down that he could've died at any second that was a factor for Voldemort's desire for everlasting life, but when Voldemort had done his research into what happened to his mother, how she had died in childbirth it could have cemented his desire to live forever, but Albus would never know which it was.

In any case, if Voldemort was now dead with his followers gone as well, why did it matter if he ever found out more about Voldemort's secrets?

Algernon's reply brought Albus out of his thoughts. "It's possible, certainly," the unspeakable admitted, "and indeed the Death eater's deaths do show signs of the ritual I've got in mind. The ritual just drains the magic from the horcruxes, but I think there's more to it than that. The Dark Marks my people have managed to examine are beginning to fade, but they're giving us some interesting results."

"They're fading?" Dumbledore sat forward, exhaustion forgotten as his mind raced as he tried to work out what caused it.

"Yes. If that's not a sign their master is dead, I don't know what is," Algernon smirked; Dumbledore didn't like the joy his fellow wizard felt at the deaths of so many, but he had to remind himself that Croaker had a different life philosophy than he did, but it was still disturbing. "I've also been examining them myself, and I've learnt something you probably never guessed. The Dark Marks were a part of Voldemort's method to remain alive."

A chill passed through Albus. "What do you mean?"

"Very few wizards or witches worldwide have ever used horcruxes. For a start, its a tricky and painful process, hard to prepare, and they're even harder for people to hide, and they're vulnerable. Voldemort probably realised that early, but he still created them; I don't know if it was because he felt it was still a good plan or if he was desperate. But he had a backup plan, one that was a little more stable. The Dark Mark. It's not just a protean charmed tattoo. It's actually an intricate piece of magic which binds the wizard to Voldemort, and supplies him with magical energy. Not a lot to be fatal, but enough."

The sinking feeling Dumbledore was feeling was becoming worse. Contrary to popular belief he didn't really believe it possible to redeem all of the Death eaters, but he had not liked the thought of killing so many of them needlessly. There were some whom he believed were redeemable, and he had fought long and hard to stop anything from happening to them. It had caused some friction between him and some of his colleagues in the Order of the Phoenix. But now he was having to hear that even if the prophecy was valid and Harry had managed to kill Voldemort, the Dark wizard could return a few years later even without his horcruxes.

Algernon shook his head when he saw the look on Dumbledore's face. "Are you finally seeing the damage your belief in forgiveness and redemption could have caused in the long run, Dumbledore? Many people have warned you about the Death eaters and redeeming some of them - Moody, myself, the Potters, several members of your precious Order… your impetuous attitude could have doomed us all. Alright, you might have realised some of them were just too far gone in the heads and in their brains to be redeemed; the Lestranges were a prime example, and no one would have allowed that bunch to survive if we'd survived the war, but you were too insistent on not killing too many of the Death eaters."

"I can see that now, Algernon, I was just trying to prevent something worse taking their place."

"That was going to happen anyway. History is replete with tyrants who come and go over the centuries. Sometimes they promise new changes when in actual fact the only thing that does change is how many people die. Grindelwald might have gone for Europe, deciding the continent was the real prize but many of his atrocities were minimal compared to Lord Voldemort, and you know it."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. Algernon was right. Grindelwald hadn't been concerned with simply taking over a single country, no he had wanted the continent, using the Nazi war machine as a cover and for muscle for his army to do their dirty work. While believed Grindelwald wasn't as bad as Voldemort, many knew better. Grindelwald was just as vicious, as power hungry and as relentless as Riddle. But like Hitler, he had overreached himself badly.

Voldemort had realised that even if he had plans to conquer the world. He wouldn't be happy with a single island. Most of Voldemort's plans were political and involved causing enough chaos and destruction to conquer and topple governments and have his people installed in the right places to make things worse. And then the takeovers would begin and Voldemort would have uncontested power before repeating the process over and over again. Voldemort was more subtle than Grindelwald - he would wait, plan and plot, find likeminded people similar to the Malfoys or the other families under his control, and then he would begin launching vicious attacks that grew worse each time. While the governments tried to mitigate the worst of the disaster, Voldemort would have his people begin taking control in the governments to undermine their power. And on and on it would go. It had very nearly succeeded in Britain, so it could succeed elsewhere. But Dumbledore did wonder if it would have actually worked since there were dozens of countries which really didn't tolerate that kind of thing, but he had no way of knowing for sure.

"It's really over," Dumbledore whispered to himself, "Voldemort is truly dead."

"Yes," Algernon replied, pleased he'd gotten through to Dumbledore, "he is dead. Now we can finally do something about our world."

The next ten minutes would be problematic for the Unspeakable - Dumbledore was a staunch believer in 'what was good enough a century ago is good enough for us now' but he needed to hear this.

* * *

What do you think?


	6. Chapter 6 The Junior Death Eaters

I don't own Harry Potter, but I am having fun with my ideas. Please tell me what you think, and feel free to drop me a line about the story.

The Junior Death Eaters Make their Move.

Draco Malfoy looked around the ballroom of his manor, all around him were boys and girls near or around his age. Many of them were in his House at Hogwarts, but some of them came from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and there were even a few Gryffindors, but despite their differences many of them were purebloods with the occasional half blood, but they all had something in common.

They were the children of Death Eaters, or they had had plans of becoming Death Eaters themselves, Malfoy genuinely didn't care but he was pleased that many of the pureblooded students had seen the 'light' - pun intended - and realised the righteousness of the cause, though that was impossible now the Dark Lord was dead, and for some of them like Draco it was a bitter potion to swallow.

Draco had a few moments to think about the recent events. The announcement the Dark Lord was dead brought mixed messages to the magical world. On the one hand people as stupid as Cornelius Fudge believed Voldemort was already dead, but for those who were wiser than Fudge rejoiced that the Dark Lord had died. Voldemort had been worse than the last three dark lords in the United Kingdom's history, and his war against the magical world had brought about the death or the near extinction of hundreds of magical families. One of the aspects to Voldemort's death that took the entire magical world by surprise was the sudden loss of magic the Death Eaters had endured and many people who had believed they were innocent, that they had been under mental control were now no longer sure about their innocence, and now that their protection was gone the DMLE didn't waste time interrogating them and clearing up the cases they were involved in once and for all.

Amelia Bones had long since wanted to scrutinise the Inner Circle Death Eaters, everyone knew that, believing and knowing full well that they weren't innocent and they were playing the Ministry were fools, and people like Bagnold and Fudge had fallen for it without blinking or thinking that they were making a fatal mistake. Bones took advantage of the now squib nature of the Death Eaters since squibs had no rights under magical law, a law that was put into effect by the supremacist Death Eaters, but now they were seeing for themselves what their attitude had brought. Fudge couldn't stop the interviews since Bones made sure to keep them out of the Ministers' awareness though she'd had to make sure the members of her department who followed Fudge's word like a puppy on a leash didn't say a word. While she knew most of Fudge's lackeys in her department though she truly had no comprehension who could be trusted or not, but her tactics worked. The revelations that had come out because despite Draco's disgust of Amelia Bones, a disgust that had been moulded into his personality by his parents, rather than something he had picked up himself, who was by far one of the most honest people the Ministry had had practically shattered the myths that had been subtly cultivated by the Death Eaters and were believed by idiots like Bagnold and Fudge, though for children like Draco, and Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson the two ministers had done more to aid the cause of the Dark Order more than others had.

The Wizarding public now knew the Death Eaters were not innocent, that the Imperius Curse was just that, a myth. Even worse, they now knew the truth of the ritual that allowed the Death Eaters to receive their Dark Marks - how they had needed to torture and kill people, preferably muggleborns and even the occasional pureblood who was considered a Blood traitor to the cause, and that there was no way they could do perform it under the mental control of another more powerful wizard. But that wasn't all; Bones had just needed to pour veritaserum down the throats of no more than a few Death Eaters who were now squibs, and she had learnt of the numerous bribes passed through to various people to help them get off the long lists of offences and to stay out of prison, and since this was long before that moron Fudge was elected as Minister for magic ever since the revelations of Barty Crouch Jnr came out had ruined his father's chances of becoming minister, paving the way for Fudge, who was a truly blind man compared to the more harsher Crouch, Bones couldn't really use the evidence to impeach Fudge.

Malfoy sent up some fireworks with his wand. "Thank you for coming," he said, deciding to be polite for the first time to make them realise how serious things were, "but we need to discuss business."

"What did you want us for, Malfoy?" Zacharious Smith asked aggressively. Buoyed by the arrogant Hufflepuff, some of the others spoke over themselves in agreement. Malfoy's face contorted with anger for a moment, wishing he had the patience to make the arrogant Hufflepuff learn some respect for his betters - he didn't care if Smith was a descendent of Hufflepuff herself, the boy deserved to suffer, but he needed the boy and everyone here intact until he was ready to solidify his place as leader.

"The Dark Lord is dead, our parents and those of you in this room who wished to become Death Eaters could never join the cause now," he said, using all of his control not to curse the arrogant boy where he stood, "I wanted to join myself, as did many of you. I had, of course, known from my father since I was 11 how the Death Eaters were given their Marks, and I also knew there and then the one I had wanted to kill and torture was the Granger blood."

Many of the teens in the room muttered to themselves, sneering at the mention of the smug and arrogant Hermione Granger. Like Draco many of them had wanted to teach the filthy muggleborn girl her place - which was to serve the pureblood cause as a sex slave or a torture victim.

"We can still carry on the Dark Lord's cause," Draco went on, knowing he had their attention. The only problem he had was he had no idea whether he could handle it. "But we're going to do things differently," he went on; he had his own ideas for Wizarding supremacy that were completely different from those of his father's and the Dark Lords, "we're going to launch attacks against the filthy muggles and we're also going to try to take over the government, but we're going to do it slowly."

While Draco paused for a moment to think about the plan he had come up with, someone new interrupted him. "The Dark Lord tried that, Malfoy," Theodore Nott said, pointing out the obvious.

"I know, but the Dark Lord made mistakes; he was powerful, yes, but he launched attacks against the wrong people. We're going to change that," he said, "listen to me and I'll tell you what I have in mind."

With that Draco explained what he had in mind, the plan was bold and he highlighted a plan that took the other teenagers by surprise, but after an hour they began excitedly agreeing with him. When he was finished Draco knew he had won.

* * *

2 days later.

* * *

The attack had come suddenly. One minute the streets were full, as they always were, with commuters and shoppers who went from shop to shop and came away with bags of shopping while tourists milled around excitedly, taking pictures and partaking in English food and customs that some of them inevitably got wrong. The next moment there were screams of panic and pain that were cut short by the black clad figures that had appeared, carrying sticks which fired bright balls of light that brought people down, making them scream in terrible agony or even kill them, and it wasn't long before the entire street was devastated.

Harry Potter had been in the crowd, visiting the numerous shops and picking the pockets of a few people as he went when the attack occurred, and then everything happened so fast that it was hard for him to work out what was happening before he ducked behind the wreck of a a car in the street.

The top of the car was destroyed, metal and glass being blasted, melted and warped by the heat of the spell while other spells were being shot everywhere, and all around shop windows were blasted and the shops inside had been destroyed by the spells flying while dead bodies lay everywhere, though there were survivors.

Crouching down behind one of the cars that had more or less survived, Harry wondered how much longer he had before one of the wizards attacking the street saw him behind the car; the thing looked like someone had dropped it on a massive flying pan and burnt it with acid, but he was safe for the time being while he tried to work out a way to fight back.

Harry risked a look upwards and spotted the small group of wizards who were attacking. There were five of them in total, and they were firing curses that he recognised as lethal, and while he felt sorry for the people running screaming for their lives as the curses hit them in the back, causing them to fall like ten-pins, he knew the wizards attention was off him for the time being.

When he had performed the ritual to end the threat of Lord Voldemort and the majority of his followers, he had given some thought about the would-be Death Eaters, but since he had no idea who they were, and he hadn't really bothered to try to find out who they were, but he'd thought with the older generation of Death Eaters gone they would have been discouraged from trying to join in their footsteps. Harry closed his eyes and kicked himself for not bothering to try to stop this from happening before it was too late, but it was useless now - it was happening and there was little he could do about it.

Seeing the wizards were too busy with the people running away in panic, Harry used the opportunity to creep closer to them so he could try to learn more about them. It took him a while, but there was so much destruction and the wizards were too busy killing the innocent shoppers to pay attention to someone trying to creep up on them; they knew that it made more sense to run away rather than get too close. Finally he was close enough to hear them. They were wearing long black hooded robes that put him in mind of the Grim Reaper, they weren't wearing the stupid masks of the Death Eaters, but he could hear them jeering and laughing at the panicked shoppers.

"Look at them!" One of the figures, a girl by the sound of it, cackled madly. "They're running away like panicked fairies."

"Stupid muggles, they build all this and yet they can't fight back?"

Harry took out his wand and stepped out. "Maybe its because you're not giving them the opportunity to fight back?" he suggested as he stepped out. The surprised group swung round, but Harry hit one of them with an organ liquifying curse that made him scream as his organs boiled in his own body. The others in the group looked at the body and their hooded heads swung back and forth between Harry and the writhing body. Not wanting to give them the chance to regain their composures, Harry fired more curses at the surviving members of the group, firing one curse after another to overwhelm the attackers, but always aiming to maim or kill them. As he fought, he realised he didn't have the practice of a professional dueller. Finally, only one was left, covered in the bloody remains of his fellows. It was obvious that he was good at dishing out death and destruction, but not getting it back in return. Good. Harry fired a mild blasting curse at the knees, and the attacking wizard dropped to the ground like a felled tree.

Harry walked over, stepping over nimbly over the dead bodies littered around him, and using his foot to hold down the wizard, he flicked his wand and the hood was ripped off, revealing a teenager who looked a year or two older than Harry himself was, who was furious. But that didn't mean he was surprised by the sight of the teenager who was spending his time murdering muggles. He knew, thanks to his parent's memories, that the magical world had been at this point before, with teenagers joining the Death Eaters. It was...sickening for people today doing the same.

"When my friends find you, they're going to kill you," he spat.

Harry lifted a brow. As threats went this one was pretty unoriginal. "Crucio!" he snapped after levelling his wand directly at the boy's heart. After keeping the curse on the screaming boy for no more than 3 minutes, Harry lifted the curse.

"You're going to tell me what I want to know, but before I do, I don't want to hear anything about how muggles are inferior, wizards are their betters, or any other bullshit like that, I don't care, okay? Because if you go off topic, I'll torture you again, only I won't use one of the Unforgivables. There is a nifty spell my parents learnt in Egypt. I've been meaning to try it," he said, lying about the bit about meaning to try out a new torture spell, though his victim had no way of knowing that.

The bluff worked, though. The wizard under his foot swallowed loudly, paling. "W-what do you want to know?"

"I want to know what is going on," Harry said, though he was wondering how long he had before the Aurors arrived, "what's happening?"

The wizard smirked at him, seemingly forgetting about the threat of torture. "Wouldn't you like to know, traitor!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, hoping his expression was sufficiently scary enough to make the wizard realise he was close to being tortured. "I do want to know," he said lowly.

"As if I'd tell you, Mudblood," the wizard spat, the next second he was screaming out loud as he thought his body felt like it was being ripped to pieces. The wizard had never experienced pain like this, not even the recent use of the Cruciatus curse on him had hurt as bad as this did. He had no idea how long he was held under the curse, but it felt like decades had passed before he felt it being lifted off him.

The wizard felt terrible; his throat felt as though it had been left out in the sun to dry while being stretched like taffy and every bone in his body was broken in the meantime. He felt a bit lightheaded because of the pain, so he was more or less out of it though he noticed what looked like a dark mass standing above him. It took a while - he wasn't sure how long - before he realised what had happened, and his memories cleared and he remembered exactly what this wizard had done to him.

"Don't call me that filthy word, ever again!" The black haired wizard who was looming over him growled. "Now tell me, what are you doing?"

No answer.

"Okay," the black haired wizard said almost sadly though a glint in his eye was a giveaway that he didn't mean it.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic was in shambles, there was no doubt about that in the minds of the more sensible members of the Ministry. The surprising attack which had rendered the Death Eaters into squibs had torn apart magical society, though the Death Eaters had caused a lot of death and destruction they had made numerous connections over the years since the First War, but now they were gone and the revelations about them and their precious connections had come out, the Ministry was working around the clock, or at least some of them were trying to clean up the mess and trying to see what kind of damage there was. The Ministry was simply in no condition to tackle the new problem - wizards and witches launching attacks against the muggles.

Ordinarily it was straightforward to send Aurors into the muggle world to deal with them, but unfortunately, their increased workload of dealing with the Death Eaters and sorting out all the things they had done over the years, carrying out arrests and uncovering further leads, had brought about a new problem. Lack of personnel. In her office Amelia Bones was busily massaging her temples as she had to listen to Fudge ranting about the attacks on the muggles. Amelia was more than aware of them, but Fudge seemed to be under the delusion she didn't know anything about the attacks or was even doing anything about them.

"Minister," she snapped loudly and get him to shut him up and get his attention, and it worked because Fudge stopped speaking. "I was already aware of the attacks. I have already dispatched Aurors to investigate, and I've even gone myself to see what's happened." Amelia didn't mention she had sent only a few of her department to the scene of the attack.

Fudge blustered. "Then why aren't you doing more then? That's what I pay you for, isn't it?"

Amelia wished she had the authority to blast this pompous little waste of space out of her office. "Cornelius, the attacks on the muggle world started four days ago. The targets look random. There is no normal muggle infrastructure nearby - the attackers are not attacking airports, railway stations, hospitals, and big businesses. They're just showing up on the streets and firing curses that are devastating, but they're more focused on killing muggles rather than torturing them like the Death Eaters."

Fudge waved away that detail, making Amelia roll her eyes - she could do it freely because Fudge never noticed anything beyond the point of his nose, but it was his attitude that the matter of muggles being tortured seeming insignificant that worried her. "Never mind that, what are you going to do about this, and why haven't you acted sooner?" he blustered.

Amelia growled under breath as she tried to hold back the urge to scream, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Minister, the Death Eaters loss of magic has caused chaos to our community," she spoke softly and slowly as though to a retarded child, "and my department is trying to get answers that shouldn't have taken this long to answer." She didn't bother telling Fudge that one of the problems she and her department and others had been because of the Minister's inability to look beyond the bribes, bribes which were meant to slowly bring down her department and render it useless in the long run, and she hoped that when her investigations were over she would have more than enough evidence to get Fudge out of office, though whether the next minister would be as pompous and as self important was an open question. "We weren't expecting such a sudden backlash, not this quickly, and we were taken by surprise. Cornelius, this is not going to die down," she finished, practically grinding her teeth as she tried to emphasise to the Minister and his weak mind the full extent of the problem.

"What do you mean?"

Now Amelia had Fudge where she wanted him, though she knew she still had to tread carefully. "The first attack was at a small shopping centre in Nottingham," she began, "it was just three attackers wearing black robes with hoods, and they killed 16 muggles. That was simple for the clean up crew to take care of, and was easy for us to mitigate. The next two days and more muggles were attacked, and the wizards who attacked them were in groups of 3 to 5. Today, the attackers are in groups of 6, and they're causing more damage and killing more muggles. These attacks are increasing, Cornelius, and they're getting worse. You should know that, you have been speaking to the muggle Prime Minister, aren't you?"

The sudden look on Fudge's face made Amelia groan. "Oh, tell me you're joking! You are supposed to contact him and stay in contact whenever incidents like this happen," she said.

"Don't speak to me like that, Amelia," Fudge shouted, taking refuge in anger because he couldn't stand criticism.

Amelia glared at him, wishing the Minister was someone with brains in his head. "Minister, you're being unreasonable, and you know the rules of your position. You need to speak to the Prime Minister, otherwise you will have a lot more trouble on your hands."

Auror Shacklebolt suddenly came in, but before Amelia could demand an explanation for the intrusion she saw the dark skinned Auror was pallid with horror. "Director, there's been another attack, but it looks like someone got to them first. They're all dead."

Amelia Bones was out of the door before Fudge could blink of say a word.

* * *

In his office at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore was starting to wonder if Harry Potter was involved, but since he had little idea what the boy was capable of because they had never met and spoken together he couldn't be sure if the boy was involved. But truthfully, it was really stupid for him to blame all of this onto one single person even if many of the deaths were gruesome.

Someone was hunting down the dark wizards who were launching attacks against the muggles - with Severus….gone, he had no idea who the wizards could be, so he didn't exactly have any information coming in. Dumbledore truly did not like that, he hated not knowing anything and ever since Voldemort's death and the Death Eaters transformed into squibs and found themselves being punished beyond his control, though he had sat in on the 'trials' they underwent and was disgusted by their lack of true remorse, and it had made the old wizard truly wonder for the first time ever if his philosophy of redemption was worthwhile, but he had to admit he had never once told the Death Eaters it was there.

But the problem was he had underestimated the speed in which the vacuum Voldemort had left behind would be filled though he knew it would be filled in time. It was worse. Truthfully the attackers who were causing problems for the Ministry were little more than children. Yes, some of them were no older than 30, but the fact remained they were young and inexperienced. The bodies had been killed in numerous ways that didn't include the killing curse - Dumbledore had found himself wondering what it said about the spell repertoire of the killer that he used more imaginative methods than the dreaded killing curse, but he quickly found himself realising that even though those methods were distasteful there were fewer attacks. Whether the attackers were beginning to see their attempt to fill the place of the Death Eaters was a bad idea he didn't know, all he did know was it had taken the deaths of quite a few people who didn't realise that because of their actions their families could be facing extinction.

Why was it so many purebloods were so foolish? Why couldn't they realise the philosophy of blood superiority was unworkable and illogical? Yes, Dumbledore had to admit that many pureblooded witches and wizards were powerful, but that was the way they were, but so were muggleborns and half bloods, and yet fools like the LeStranges and the Malfoys believed a pureblood was the only form of wizard worth knowing.

He had already decided he wasn't going to expend much time or energy trying to find the killer though he was going to try to reach out to the remaining young purebloods behind the attacks - he had good ideas who the ones still alive were, and he only hoped he could get through to them all, but with the poison of their parents that had been poured into their brains from a young age he knew he had his work cut out for him.

* * *

Draco was pacing up and down the lobby of his manor, shaking with frustration, fear, and worry. During his years at Hogwarts, he had ruled the whole of Slytherin house, but now his power had been reduced to a shadow of what it had once been, and in that time he had needed to have a good look at his past life. The reason he had been so powerful was because of his father, but now Lucius Malfoy was dead and all the secrets about the Death Eaters he'd carried within his brain had been blabbed to the world, his son had lost a great deal of the power he'd been given.

It had taken all of his remaining influence and power he had left to get the remaining pure-blooded children of the Death Eaters to join him, but with so many of them now dead, he had lost a lot of his credibility as a leader. Theodore himself had said he had been a good enough leader in Slytherin, but in the real world he didn't really have what it took, and Draco had almost killed him for that, but he had reined himself in since he knew it would be bad, for two reasons. He needed every single follower he could get, and secondly, if he killed any of them, he could be facing a fight that he knew he couldn't win. Draco had been taught the Dark Arts like many other children of his ilk, in preparation for him to take his place as a Death Eater, but even he had to know when to back off, and besides several of the group were older and more experienced and had larger repertoires.

Draco had made a promise that on reflection looked a bit foolish, but he'd been desperate. He had vowed to find the killer responsible for the deaths of so many of their group, and had promised to kill him. Draco was frustrated because he was losing his control over the ground, but he was more terrified and worried about what he had planned.

He was going to lead an attack himself, but he was terrified rather than pleased because he had been wanting to destroy the muggle world and reduce their disgusting lives to dust where they'd then be enslaved or better still killed off by their betters, but he was scared he would not live to enjoy his domination over the magical world.

* * *

Ciao for now.


	7. Chapter 7 Destiny's Encounter

Disclaimer - You should know the drill.

Feedback - always appreciated.

Destiny's encounter.

Looking down at the dead bodies in front of him, Harry wondered if he was making any progress with the Junior Death Eaters, and just seeing how many of them were made him see for the first time just how far Voldemort's sick philosophy had seeped into so many young minds, but while many muggleborns didn't understand why the pureblood majority hated them so much they'd be willing to slaughter or enslave them to make the pureblood wizards feel good about themselves, Harry knew thanks to his mother and father's memories of travelling to other countries it was more than just fear and ignorance, which was often used to explain it.

Ever since he had read about Dorcas Twelvetree's mistake and the resultant fallout, Harry had come to realise the Wizarding world saw muggleborns as a potential security risk even if some of them had probably suffered themselves at the hands of muggles, even members of their own families. With that in mind it was probably no wonder Dark Lords like Voldemort came along, promising to purge the world of muggleborns to let wizards and witches live without the need to worry about watching their backs. But the MACUSA's segregation from the muggle world, while extreme, wasn't a surprise since it did protect them from any more potential fallouts.

But looking at the dead bodies in front of him made Harry see that the MACUSA's law was far from perfect - it did nothing to protect muggleborns, or even allow them to join the magical community in order to ensure its long term survival. At least in countries around the world, muggleborns had the opportunity to learn magic, to get away from the harshness of the persecution they themselves had probably faced because of terrified muggles. Many wizards had protested the Rappaport laws, calling them extreme, but the Americans had ignored them since they had needed to clean up a major mess.

It was things like that that made fanatics like Voldemort flourish like mad, but Harry could see it wasn't exactly the muggleborns the magical community worldwide had to cope with, but the muggles they were related to or knew. Instead of letting them grow up with Muggle families, some countries could take the children away from their parents at birth, and have them raised by magical families, but Harry knew it would never happen.

He knew family was a big thing to the magical world, and considering his own past which had already been deprived of parents thanks to Voldemort and his fanatics, he wouldn't wish the life of an orphan on anybody.

It sickened him that even if he dealt with these Junior Death Eaters, the problem would still persist. Harry was so tempted to walk away, board a plane and return home to New York, and let the British wizards deal with this mess, but he couldn't do that. He had already killed Voldemort and removed the magic from the adult Death Eaters, so this was his mess even if he was tempted to just go away to let the British clean up the mess, but he didn't trust them too, he had the memories of his parents to tell him how useless the magical world had been the first time round with Voldemort, with people like Bagnold and Dumbledore messing things up.

No, it was better for him to deal with it before it got out of hand. Still, he had to admit the magical world were dealing with these kids better than they had the adults. He had seen them, always undercover and hidden from sight as they'd travelled to the scene, and he'd stayed out of sight until they'd left. He knew if they caught him it would mean revealing his presence and he didn't want that, but most of all he didn't want some of the stupider Purebloods out there taking advantage to have him put in Azkaban for his crimes.

Looking down at the small silver lockets he had in his hand - another sign of pureblood wealth, the goblins relentlessly controlled the flow of silver and gold and other precious metals and gems in the magical world - he couldn't believe how easy this was going to be. The lockets were portkeys that were keyed to Malfoy Manor. All he had to do was use one of the lockets to get into the manor, and deal with the Junior Death Eaters before they could continue with their plans, and that made him consider what he'd learnt from the two he'd just killed. These guys just didn't know when to quit, he thought to himself, wondering if their new plans to launch an all out attack against the muggle world was down to simple desperation or just stupidity, but he decided it made little difference.

He looked down thoughtfully at the bodies in front of him. He had looked into their minds to see who they were and what they were doing which was how he'd learnt of their plans, but now he didn't know what to do. He knew from his own experiences in New York and rumours he'd heard abroad that many a gang believed the best way to send a message was to cut up the corpses and send bits off to the enemy to remind them of the dangers of messing around on their turf, but Harry was a one man band. Did he really need to be brutal?

No, he decided at last, deciding it was time for him to become practical. Even if he sent the bodies back to Malfoy Manor in pieces, he wanted and needed all of the Junior Death Eaters in one secure place. Harry wanted to deal with the majority of the group tonight, though he knew he probably wouldn't get them all, and even with his parent's memories to guide him, he lacked the time to really hunt them down and deal with them if they weren't around tonight.

Fortunately, he'd learnt enough from the minds of those whom he'd killed recently to know the Junior Death Eaters lacked the mental maturity to resist the urge to boast about their 'exploits', as if they were something to be proud of. That meant Malfoy Manor would probably be packed with them, making his job tonight easier.

Harry just wished he felt happier doing this tonight.

* * *

Harry waited until it was night time so he could arrive at the Manor. The portkey deposited him in the middle of a richly decorated but sparse room as if the owners had decided to simply label it as the room where they could apparate or portkey into the house without disturbing anything or anyone else.

What surprised him the most was there weren't any types of alarms - he knew from his parents' memories that some of the more paranoid and security conscious wizards and witches had some kind of magical alarm that sounded for the head of the manor to let them know someone had arrived, but he couldn't really tell.

Padding silently towards the door, Harry flicked his wand gently so he could pick up any kind of sound not far from the room he was in and he paused to listen. The sound of laughter that bordered on drunk made Harry roll his eyes. He had no idea if the adult Death Eaters had followed the same tradition as their kids, but it did make him wonder if there had been other attacks that he didn't know of that had succeeded.

It didn't matter.

Harry used a spell to check if the door was unlocked, and when he found it wasn't he wondered if the owner of the house was careless or just thoughtless, and he left the small anteroom he'd arrived in and followed the sounds to the a large set of richly carved double doors. Harry listened outside for a second before he opened the door a touch. What he saw made him a smile.

Most of the Junior Death Eaters were already dead drunk, emphasis on dead. Many of them were talking in overlapping voices that slurred as they paused to laugh, drink, and talk all at the same time. They kept talking about how they'd killed one muggle after another, how they had tortured them; some of the stories like how one boy had tortured and slaughtered a baby girl or a small child made Harry sick to his stomach and promise himself, he would use something much worse than the killing curse on them - the killing curse was seen as a merciful form of execution by some magical nations, but nothing those sick scum had done to children warranted it, they deserved much worse.

Harry was almost sad some of the Junior Death Eaters had more restraint; he could see the amount of alcohol on offer for them, and it had the advantage of making them open their mouths and talk about what they'd done, but he couldn't do anything to make the ones who didn't drink just gulp down a large measure of Firewhiskey. He didn't want to be here all night. He just wanted to get this over and done with, quickly, but the problem was he only hoped the ones who weren't looking too pissed had drunk enough to let their guards down; that was the problem with not knowing anyone really well, you had no idea what they were capable of.

Readying his wand and looking around to make sure no one was coming - Harry hadn't forgotten the House elves, he didn't want to deal with them - Harry slowly opened the door, flicking his wand to put up temporary wards to prevent the Junior Death Eaters from getting out of the room, and stepped inside, his mind already prepared for the fight.

It didn't take long for him to be noticed.

A girl, probably aged 15-16 years old, looked up, a wide smile on her drunken face.

"Who are you?" she called out, hiccuping slightly, only to be hit in the chest by a killing curse that struck her chest with such force it knocked her chair over. Alert now, the Junior Death Eaters who could fight jumped to their feet, knocking their chairs to the ground, their wands raised.

It was chaos after that. The Junior Death Eaters were tough, even Harry could see that a few minutes into the fight. It was obvious they'd learnt how to use the types of spells Harry's parents had imprinted on his mind as a baby from a young age, and in some ways they were better than him. They had had more practice than him, and it took all of the stubbornness he'd picked up over the years to keep up with them. Harry dodged out of the way of more than one killing curse sent his way, but he always sent that and a few other curses back, while using his still nascent abilities with charms and transfiguration to keep up with the Junior Death Eaters.

He fired a few of the nastier curses at the ones whom he'd marked. One collapsed to the ground screaming as the blood boiled in his body, the skin evaporating, while another ended up with a massive hole in his chest.

During the fight, he always made sure not to pour too much magic into his spells thanks to the techniques the imprinting had taught him so then he could concentrate on the other Death Eaters. More than once he would be busy fighting three at the same time and then he would suddenly flick his wand, sending a killing curse at one of the wizards who were completely hopeless and drunk.

More than one Death Eater, drunk or near sober was hit by piercing curses to the chest, organ boiling curses and blood burning hexes, but the drunk Death Eaters caused problems themselves, some of them were so drunk they couldn't aim their wands properly, and when Harry realised that he either flicked his own wand to forcibly move them just as they were getting a spell out and sending the spell into somebody else. Other times he would just kick them in the stomach and stab them with the knife he'd taken out of his pocket. He wished the British had less stringent gun rules than the States, but the knife was still good.

Finally, one of the more proficient fighters cornered him - a girl with long dark hair, she would have been pretty if he hadn't known of the sick things she must have done.

Fighting this girl was like fighting a mirror image, though unlike the others, she was more careful with her spell choice, the others used spells the same way someone would take a wrecking ball to a front door instead of simply using a key.

"Fighting you is a breath of fresh air," he commented to her, though he wasn't trying to make conversation.

The girl grimaced. She was one of the best fighters of the group, her family had trained her well over the years, and she had once arrogantly proclaimed she could take on even Dumbledore. But she knew it was in jest. So did her family, and now they were gone. But this…..She was having a hard time getting through his defences because he kept moving things to get in the way of his spells, but more than that he was using spells that weren't even curses to bolster his defences. He used a levitation spell to block a curse that reduced the once high quality chair to cinders and ash, conjured a smallish block of stone to get in the way of another spell. The good news was she was able to hold him off with her creative spell repertoire.

As a fighter with a wealth of training in duelling, she could recognise a gifted dueler easily enough, but there was something about the way he fought her that told her something significant.

For all his knowledge and the way he used the wand in his hand, he clearly wasn't used to what he was doing but that didn't mean he was useless or pathetic. Far from it, he was dodging the spells, using tricks to block dangerous spells - she knew that master duelers did that to avoid overtiring themselves unless they were either very powerful or too overconfident about their abilities.

The boy's green eyes narrowed as the fight continued, and he began channeling more power into his curses, and suddenly the girl was backing away and she found herself losing ground as she found herself having to conjure bigger and bigger shields to block spells she didn't even recognise.

The boy fired a fire vortex spell, a powerful incendiary spell that was a couple of steps below fiendfyre. The girl almost screamed with shock as soon as the spell was fired, and she was reflexively pushed back by the force of the spell. She just managed to block it in time, but the heat was like being pushed into a geyser.

Unfortunately, dealing with the fire vortex had meant she was unable to do anything when the killing curse struck her in the chest; the fire vortex had roared around her, meaning she couldn't hear the tell-tale rushing sound of the killing curse.

Her last thought wasn't she hadn't managed to beat the boy, but that she could at last reunite with her family.

* * *

Harry gazed down at the boy of the girl with regret before he carried on with the fight, putting her out of his mind instantly as he carried on with the others. Unfortunately, the girl he'd been fighting with had given the surviving four Junior Death Eaters time to recover their wits and try to find a way to escape, but because of the wards he'd set up they hadn't been able to escape. Harry didn't give them any time to fight back. He was tired of this fight, and he didn't have the time to get into another duel with one of them again. He simply flicked his wand and summoned all of the wands in front of him, snatching them out of the hands of the Junior Death Eaters who weren't expecting the move, destroying them before he killed the others.

He sent another fire vortex at two of the Junior Death Eaters, two massive thugs who were already sporting injuries, and were completely hopeless when the fire spell caught them and roasted them alive, making them scream in pain and terror before he cornered another girl, this one whose face reminded Harry of pugs.

"N-no!" she tried to plead.

"Did any of the children you bastards slaughtered for sport ask for mercy?" Harry asked, wordlessly casting an Ancient Chinese curse that made the girl drop to the ground, screaming as her bones were crushed and her organs were turned to jelly. Harry stepped over her writhing body, ignoring the girl's screams, cornering the last Junior Death Eater. He hadn't bothered taking the names of anyone but him. The blond hair, sharp pointed, pale face, narrowed silver-grey eyes, Harry knew his name was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's inner circle.

For a second the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, then Malfoy tried to rush forwards - Harry didn't know if the other boy was trying to escape, or just trying to attack - and he just banished the boy backwards until he hit the wall with a clang.

Malfoy winced as his head knocked into the wood of the wall, but he quickly pushed the pain aside and picked himself up, grabbing a chair and lifting it up so he could use it as a weapon - it galled him to have to resort to muggle methods to get out of here, but the survival part of his brain overrode his pureblood pride, and besides as soon as he got past this mudblood, he could grab one of the wands littering the room and use that-

The mudblood raised his wand, and destroyed the chair with a single spell.

"Draco Malfoy, the new leader of the New Death Eaters, right?" The mudblood smirked at him. "Not much of a leader now, are you?"

Malfoy glared at him, and spat out, "Others will rise to take our place-"

"I don't doubt that. Dark Lords have been rising and falling for centuries, using the crimes of muggles and the fear that muggleborns will betray the magical world to the muggle world to justify their actions. Even the MACUSA has Dark Lords, they've just decided to go on muggle killing sprees while leaving muggleborns alone in order to punish them for the Twelvetrees disaster; I should know, I've met one," the mudblood interrupted him.

Malfoy blinked up at him in surprise. "You're from America?" he clarified, he had already known he didn't recognise this guy from Hogwarts, and while his accent had something British about it, there was another element that wasn't native.

"In a way. Not that it makes any difference for you," the mudblood added, looking down casually as if they were two old friends who were chatting about the weather. "You're not going to get out of here alive."

Malfoy felt the cold chill grip his insides. He had already known that he was in danger, but having it spelt out so casually made him nauseous. "Why are you doing this? How did you find us?"

"I'm doing this to clean up the mess I made when I removed Voldemort's powers before he died. I wasn't expecting trouble, but when you lot began your attacks on the muggle world, I decided to intervene so then the Ministry didn't repeat the same mistakes of Millicent Bagnold, and do nothing until it was too late; from what I've learnt about Cornelius Fudge, he is a bigger moron than Bagnold was on a good day," the mudblood replied, shrugging his shoulders casually, though there was a solemn, almost sad, note to his tone that said he wasn't enjoying this.

Draco looked up into the emerald green eyes of the attacker. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, he had been brought up to consider people like Albus Dumbledore and the blood traitors beneath him as weaklings too afraid of doing what was right in the magical world, and he had always been taught muggleborns were weak as well, so meeting one who was able to get into his home and kill everyone in it was a surprise that didn't sit well with him.

But one thing jumped out. "You….. Killed the Dark Lord?" he whispered.

The mudblood just nodded down at him. "I did," he said, "let's just call it… business, or paying him back for what he did to me. I didn't know what had happened to my parents at first, but when I did find out, well, I knew Voldemort would come after me sooner or later, so I came back here to deal with him."

"You did?" Malfoy said, trying to conceal his confusion; how could any child who never knew what had happened to his parents ever have a hope of defeating the Dark Lord so suddenly, and how could he find out? Malfoy wanted nothing more than to move towards a wand, but with how close the mudblood was standing over him, Malfoy knew he couldn't move a muscle without it being noticed. "How can you….. Do all this? Who are you?"

"Simply put, I can do this because I looked into the minds of some of the Junior Death Eaters I killed out in muggle London and I stole their Portkey pendents so I can get here, but if you want to know who I am then I'll tell you," the mudblood said, looking down at Draco as if he was the dirt underneath his feet. "I am Harry Potter."

Draco's eyes widened in shock at the news, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Harry Potter? The magical world had been seeking the filthy little mudblood for years ever since that night in '81, and Draco knew thanks to contacts his family had abroad, many witches and wizards who shared the same beliefs as the Dark Lord had also sought him out to kill him; Draco knew some of them hadn't given much thought about the Dark Lord's promises, believing them to be too limited, but they hadn't liked the thought of someone like Potter killing a wizard so powerful.

Draco himself had longed to become the enemy of the mudblood and make him wish he had never survived that night, but it had been a dream that hadn't come true, but coming face-to-face with him now…

"Potter," Malfoy sneered, unable to resist the urge to torment the mudblood now he knew who he was. "How does it feel to know you've betrayed your parents?"

"What do you mean?"

"My parents told me all about you-"

"And how would they have done that? You and they have never met me, until now, so how can you tell what I'm like if you've never met me?" Potter replied. "My parents gave me the knowledge of how to fight you, I've done that. Now all I need to do is kill you to be free of you; I know that Voldemort's ideals will still be out there, haunting the magical world like a ghost."

"Our mission-" Malfoy began.

"Please, give me more credit than that. I've encountered muggle hating wizards like you before. In America I was nearly killed by one, simply because he believed I was hopeless and defenceless. They're no different from you; lashing out against a small minority of people whose only crime is they live in a world you hate."

Malfoy didn't even have time to scream as Potter fired the killing curse, and his vision turned black….

* * *

Looking down at the corpse in front of him, death instantaneous, Harry sighed in frustration. He didn't regret what he'd just done, the lives he'd just taken from everyone in the room, even if he could hear the sounds of breathing and pained panting as some of the Junior Death Eaters held onto whatever shred of life they had left in their bodies.

In the past whenever he'd murdered someone he had quickly jumped back from his morals to tell himself it was necessary, but he had always felt residual guilt afterwards. He was getting that now even if he knew he'd had to do it. The Death Eaters of any generation had caused nothing but death and misery, but that didn't mean he had to like being the one to clean up the mistakes made by the magical world.

With a sigh, Harry walked levitated all of the bodies, even the live ones, and piled them high until they became a massive pyramid in the room. When he was finished, he used a spell invented by an Ancient Chinese dark wizard who had invented a truly nasty killing spell that crushed the bodies of people piled on top of one another to leave grisly warnings, squeezing the bones until they popped the internal organs. The reason the spell required the bodies piled up was also the reason why few dark lords had ever practiced it, the more weight stacked on top of the bodies, the more internal damage there would be, so the bodies directly at the bottom of the pyramid would be the worst crushed.

After conjuring a few bags of bricks and mortar to add to the weight, Harry cast the spell and left quickly. He knew it was slightly cowardly, but he didn't care. He used the second pendent to get away from the manor, and when he returned to the flat he was staying in he spent the night crying over what he had just done.

* * *

Next chapter is the last one.


	8. Chapter 8 Departure

Disclaimer - I don't own anything.

Feedback would be nice. This is the last chapter and while I might add something in the future, it will be brief.

mizzrazz72 - No, he didn't want to do anything of it.

Departure.

Albus looked down sadly at the dead body of Draco Malfoy and at the other faces, many of them had been students at Hogwarts. All of them were dead and it was such a pity, many of them had such potential, now it was gone. Dumbledore sighed as he stood to the side as the investigators scanned the room for signs of evidence they could use to track down whoever was responsible for this massacre.

A common misconception many people had about him, especially those who had suffered from some of the outcomes of his plans, was that he would poke his nose into anything, but while that was true even he knew he shouldn't interfere with the investigation. Besides, he didn't really have the heart to interfere. What would be the point? It was clear these young people had been behind the attacks on targets in the muggle world, and it sickened him no end that so many people had been infected by the poison of Tom Riddle's disgusting philosophy - while he might share some of Voldemort's views about muggles and the threat they posed, Dumbledore knew that while magical knowledge was greater than muggle technology, there were too many muggles for such a philosophy to work.

Dumbledore leaned against a wall as he watched the investigators levitate the bodies out of the room, sympathy and sadness seeping into his very soul as he thought about those same students who'd probably been groomed to become fully fledged Death Eaters as soon as Voldemort's war drove on through the country before it left the British isles and headed for Europe, though whether Voldemort would make any impression abroad he couldn't say. Voldemort and his followers may have had an over-inflated opinion of themselves and their abilities, but much of their actions had been centered in Britain with only a few rare attacks in places like Hamburg, Paris, Marseilles, Lisbon and Madrid, and going as far east as St. Petersburg.

Unfortunately Voldemort had never been good at forward thinking - the madness caused by the Gaunt blood running through his veins had driven the boy insane. Anyone with half a brain would have researched those countries and discovered that while they had their dark undergrounds that were much like the one here their ministry's were not as tolerant towards dark lord uprisings or foreign dark lords causing problems. In Britain, where the Ministry adopted a stick their collective heads in the sand approach, it wasn't the same abroad. Many countries, while some may be sympathetic to some of Voldemort's points, would adopt a more zero tolerance policy than the British Ministry.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters had committed a fair few raids on the continent, but the other magical governments had learnt their lessons well after the war with Grindelwald.

Voldemort may have been incredibly powerful, capable of impressive feats of magic, but abroad his madness and the power hungry approach he favored had resulted in many dark wizards who could have become valuable allies labelling him as a rabid dog. It never failed to sicken Albus about the legacy his old friend now had. Gellert had been intelligent, charismatic and bold, and he had hated the Statute of Secrecy like many other dark lords, but unlike them he didn't believe it was a wise move to actively leave the magical world and show the muggles the existence of magic. Instead, he had united a good portion of the magical world together against the muggles and solve some of the problems the Statute created.

But while Gellert had been radical, he had made the same mistakes as so many of his contemporaries, he had killed so many witches and wizards until the numbers rose into the thousands. But he had gained a lot of power abroad, using the already existing mess of the Second World War as a convenient cover, though whether or not Gellert had used that latest example of muggle savagery to hide his own war after seeing it happen, or if he had done something to set the whole thing off Albus didn't know and he didn't want to either.

Magical Europe had suffered the effects of the war first hand, much in the same way as the muggle world had. Magical and muggle Britain were both completely different places, but both had barely been touched by the war in Europe, but if they had then perhaps the war against Voldemort would have been stamped out by the same zero tolerance approach adopted by the various ministries who'd realised they had come dangerously close to being revealed to the muggles.

Voldemort had quickly discovered the futility of attacking the magical communities of Europe, but he hadn't learnt the lesson and he would have done if he had moved abroad. None of the other countries would have ministers who pandered towards the Death Eaters like Bagnold and Fudge. Thinking of Bagnold made Albus rub his forehead, he still recalled the number of times she had called upon his personal experience with the other countries for advice whenever Voldemort launched an attack abroad, and she needed his help to mitigate the worst of the angry attacks she'd come under for her lack of action.

Over time he had simply refused to help; he had had his hands full dealing with being the headmaster of Hogwarts, fighting the Death Eaters, and trying to stop Voldemort from making the same mistake dark lords made whenever they rose to power and felt invincible, but truthfully he had become fed up with Bagnold's inability to see reality. She had simply refused to listen to him and to various other members of the Ministry and the Wizengamot who could see the problem was not going to just vanish into thin air. Dumbledore had his limits and Millicent reached them pretty quickly.

Looking around the devastation in this room in Malfoy Manor, after seeing all those dead children, Albus knew in his heart the wizarding world hadn't heard the last of this poisonous disease that infected so many people and stopped them looking towards the big picture and seeing how dangerous the muggles were, and how life was better for them hidden away. At least in hiding they weren't likely to be burnt at a stake for having a gift.

* * *

Well, that was wonderful, Harry groused to himself as he sat in the airport terminal waiting for his flight as he thought about what he had done last night. After he had killed the blonde boy, he'd checked the manor for any survivors before he left the manor and headed back to the flat he'd been using.

After a night of killing, Harry would be grateful to never use such magic ever again. Still at least he had the knowledge of how to protect himself from harm in case he came across another of those wizards in America who had a thing for murdering muggleborns for sport. But after last night he was now beginning to have second thoughts about living in Britain even if it was mildly better than living in America. At least in Britain, he didn't need to worry about where he was going to be sleeping.

Harry let out a sigh, ignoring the old newspapers lying about nearby that showed the Junior Death Eaters' last attack, and just tried to relax and not think about his future just yet. He'd had plenty of time to decide whether or not he wanted to come back to live in Britain full time. But those Junior Death Eaters had put him off the place. There would always be people like them who just wanted to lash out, and while he understood their reasons he didn't want to get involved. Once was more than enough, but he had been involved twice so far, and he didn't want to die because he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Looking around the airport terminal, Harry was happy these people were safe, but he was just annoyed that they didn't realise how close they had almost come to fighting a full scale war with the magical world. Part of him just wished that the other magical countries did what Rappaport did after the Twelvetrees' incident - if the magical world were that worried about the muggles finding them, then they should just lock themselves away, it would save a lot more lives. Harry was just not looking forwards to going back to school - he had gotten used to not knowing anyone in this country, now he would have to return to being called a freak.

He just couldn't win. Harry perked up when the announcement for his flight was ready, and he stood up and headed in the direction indicated, joining other passengers heading for New York, but not before he looked around the airport terminal, wondering if he would indeed be coming back to live in this country full time.

* * *

FINIS.


End file.
